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ROMAIN  HOLLAND 

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The  People's  Thkatek.    Translated  by  Barrett 
H.  Clark.  11.36 


BARRETT  H.    CLARK 

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HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  CITY 


THE 

FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

AND 

DANTON 

TWO   PLAYS   OF  THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION 

BY 

ROMAIN   HOLLAND 


AUTHORIZED  TRANSLATION 

WITH  A  FRBPACB 

BY 

BARRETT  H.  CLARK 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1918 


CorTBIOHT.  1918, 
BT 

HBNRY  BOLT  AND  COMPANY 


TM   •UtNN   «   aOOtN    CO.    PRIM 
RANWAT,   N.  t. 


College 
Library 


TO. 


CONTENTS 

ROMAIN    ROLLAND   AND  THE    PeopLE's    ThEATKR  .  8 

The   Fourteenth   of   July 18 

(Le  14  Juillet) 

Danton  Igg 

(^Danton) 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fourteenthofjuOOrolliala 


ROMAIN  HOLLAND  AND  THE  PEOPLE'S 
THEATER 

It  is  perhaps  a  little  surprising  to  learn  that  the 
author  of  Jean-Christophe  has  written  at  least  sixteen 
full-length  plays.  Most  of  these,  it  is  true,  antedate 
the  publication  of  the  first  parts  of  his  epoch-making 
novel,  but  since  nothing  that  comes  from  the  brain 
of  Romain  Holland  can  fail  to  possess  significance  and 
interest,  a  brief  inquiry  into  his  dramatic  writings  and 
theories  on  the  drama  will  reveal  an  aspect  of  the  man 
which  has  hitherto  strangely  enough  scarcely  been 
touched  upon.  His  plays  for  a  people's  theater,  and 
his  book  of  projects,  are  as  integral  a  part  of  his 
development  as  Jean-Christophe  itself. 

The  life  of  M.  Holland  seems  to  have  been  a  per- 
petual struggle  between  conflicting  mental  forces:  for 
years  he  read  philosophy,  and  suffered  agonies  before 
he  at  last  found  himself  spiritually;  until  the  com- 
pletion of  Jean-Christophe  he  was  a  prey  to  doubts 
regarding  the  utility  of  art  and  the  end  of  life.  He 
applied  in  turn  to  the  great  master-minds  of  the 
world — Empedocles,  Spinoza,  Michelangelo,  Shake- 
speare, Beethoven,  Tolstoy — seeking  for  a  satisfactory 
philosophy  of  life.  Small  wonder,  therefore,  that  his 
work  should  bear  the  imprint  of  the  masters  who  have 
at  one  time  or  another  been  his  guides  and  inspiration. 

His  two  years'  sojourn  in  Home,  from  1890  to  1892, 

8 


4  ROMAIN  ROLLAND 

awakened  a  passionate  interest  in  the  Italian  Renais- 
sance, which  he  immediately  translated  into  plays.  It 
is  likely  that  Orsino,  Les  Baglioni,  and  Le  Siege  de 
Mantoue,  plays  of  the  Renaissance,  were  inspired  by 
Shakespeare,  for  whose  historical  dramas  M.  Rolland 
professes  a  decided  partiality.  The  plays  are  not  pub- 
lished, but  if  we  can  judge  from  the  fact  that  Mounet- 
SuUy  wished  to  produce  Orsino,  they  must  have  shown 
some  of  the  power  of  the  later  plays.  At  Rome  he 
was  associated  with  the  aged  revolutionist  Malwida 
von  Meysenbug,  whom  he  had  met  at  Versailles  some 
time  before,  and  doubtless  the  story  of  her  eventful 
life  had  its  part  in  shaping  his  ideals.  Four  other 
plays — three  of  them  on  classical  subjects — ^belong  to 
this  period:  Niobe,  Caligula,  Empedocle,  and  Jeanne 
de  Piennes.  It  is  probable  that  these  also  belonged  to 
the  writer's  period  of  apprenticeship.  At  the  end  of 
M.  Rolland's  stay  in  Rome  he  went  to  the  Wagnei* 
Festival  at  Bayreuth,  in  company  with  Malwida. 

Even  at  this  time  he  was  already  dreaming  of  a 
new  theater  in  France,  and  his  theoretical  writings  of 
later  times  bear  unmistakable  proof  of  the  impression 
made  upon  him  by  the  Bayreuth  theater  and  Wagner's 
epoch-making  ideas  on  art  and  the  people. 

After  his  marriage  in  1892  Romain  Rolland  returned 
to  Italy,  where  he  gathered  material  for  his  thesis, 
which  he  presented  and  successfully  upheld  at  the 
Sorbonne  in  1895.  His  subject  was  The  Origins  of 
the  Modern  Lyric  Theater.  History  of  the  Opera  in 
Europe  Before  Lully  and  Scarlatti.  This  he  published 
in  book  form  in  1895.     But  in  addition  to  his  uni- 


AND  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER  5 

versity  studies  and  his  lectures,  he  found  time  to  ex- 
periment with  the  dramatic  form,  and  in  1896  he  pub- 
lished his  Saint  Louis.  As  this  was  later  included  in 
a  volume  called  Tragedies  of  Faith — Les  Tragedies  de 
la  Foi — together  with  two  other  plajs,  he  evidently 
conceived  it  as  one  of  a  series  of  works  based  upon 
a  single  underlying  idea. 

Saint  Louis  depicts,  in  the  author's  own  words,  "  re- 
ligious exaltation."  In  Saint  Louis  and  the  two  other 
plays  which  accompany  it — Aert  and  Le  Triomphe  de 
la  Raison — "  One  can  observe  the  presence  of  the  main 
currents  and  passions  of  the  French  youth  of  to-day." 
All  three  show  "  the  ardor  of  sacrifice,  but  a  sacrifice 
which  is  courageous,  militant :  a  double  reaction  against 
cowardice  of  thought  and  cowardice  of  action,  against 
skepticism  and  against  the  relinquishment  of  the  great 
destiny  of  the  nation."  But  in  spite  of  this  "  pro- 
gram," M.  Rolland  is  an  artist  far  too  austere  to  write 
thesis-plays;  he  has  often  spoken  in  contempt  of  them. 
Nor  did  he  in  the  least  appeal  to  the  great  public; 
for  his  plays  have  as  yet  not  proved  acceptable  to 
them.  Saint  Louis  is  a  beautiful  poem,  not  a  tragedy 
after  all,  but  a  triumph,  for  no  hero  may  see  the  fruits 
of  his  labor,  and  if  a  temporary  failure  seems  for  a 
moment  to  cloud  the  sky,  it  is  only  temporary.  This 
is  the  message  of  Saint  Louis.  The  good  monarch  who, 
"  dying  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  sees  Jerusalem 
only  through  the  eyes  of  his  army,"  is  a  figure  of 
hope.  Aert  takes  us  from  the  time  of  the  Crusades 
to  "  an  imaginary  Holland  of  the  seventeenth  century." 
Aert,  the  son  of  a  murdered  patriot,  is  imprisoned  by 


6  ROMAIN  HOLLAND 

his  father's  assassin;  he  makes  a  vain  effort  to  rally 
the  forces  of  the  opposition,  and  at  last,  free  from  all 
that  is  vile  in  life,  he  throws  himself  from  the  window. 
Le  Triomphe  de  la  Raison  belongs,  so  far  as  the  subject 
is  concerned,  to  the  Revolutionary  plays.  As  an  after- 
piece to  Le  14  Juillet,  Danton,  and  Les  Loups,  it  shows 
the  Revolution  "  devouring  itself  " — to  translate  lit- 
erally the  author's  own  comment.  So  far  as  it  depicts 
the  excesses  into  which  faith  can  lead  men,  it  is  a 
tragedy,  but  there  is  an  implication  of  progress  in  the 
characters  whose  fate  is  bound  up  with  that  of  the 
Revolution,  even  those  who  fell  prey  to  the  blood-lust 
of  the  Girondist  massacres. 

The  Theatre  de  la  Revolution  includes  the  three 
Revolutionary  plays  I  have  just  mentioned.  They 
were  written  not  as  experiments  for  some  vague  stage 
dreamed  by  the  author,  but  for  theatrical  production 
before  the  people,  the  masses  of  France.  That  they 
were  not  wholly  successful  matters  little ;  Romain  Rol- 
land  might  well  refer  us  to  the  "  moral  "  of  Saint  Louis : 
he  has  opened  a  new  field  and  laid  before  his  coun- 
trymen— perhaps  the  world — an  ideal  which  may  well 
require  half  a  century  to  bear  fruit.  The  idea  of 
writing  a  series  of  plays  on  the  French  Revolution  was 
suggested  to  M.  Rolland  by  a  decree  of  the  Committee 
of  Public  Safety,  dated  March  10,  1794!: 

1.  That  the  Th^atre-Frangais  shall  henceforward  be 
solely  dedicated  to  productions  given  by  and  for  the  peo- 
ple at  stated  intervals  each  month: 

2.  That  the  building  shall  bear  the  following  inscription 
on  its  fa9ade:  People's  Theater,  and  that  the  various 


AND  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER  7 

troupes  of  actors  already  established  in  the  Paris  theaters 
shall  be  requisitioned  in  turn  to  act  in  these  popular  pro- 
ductions, which  are  to  take  place  three  times  in  every 
decade. 

A  few  weeks  later  there  appeared  another  decree, 
inviting  the  poets  "  to  celebrate  the  principal  events 
of  the  French  Revolution,  to  compose  Republican 
plays,  and  picture  for  posterity  the  great  epochs  of 
the  regeneration  of  the  French,  and  give  to  history 
that  solid  character  which  is  fitting  for  the  annals  of 
a  great  people  who  have  fought  victoriously  for  their 
liberty,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  all  the  tyrants  of 
Europe." 

"  All  these  projects  for  Republican  art,'*  says  M. 
Rolland,  "  fell,  on  the  9th  of  Thermidor,  together  with 
the  chiefs  of  the  Republic." 

When,  early  in  1903,  Romain  Rolland  and  a  few 
associates  began  writing  for  the  Revue  d'Art  Drama- 
tique  a  series  of  articles  on  the  people's  theater,  they 
were  merely  "  following  the  tradition  interrupted  by 
the  events  of  the  Revolution;  and  it  was  but  natural 
that  one  of  them  was  led  to  select  the  Revolution  itself 
as  the  natural  subject  for  popular  productions.  The 
three  plays  were  to  have  been  part  of  a  dramatic  cycle 
on  the  Revolution — a  sort  of  epic  comprising  ten  plays. 
Le  14  Juillet  was  the  first  page,  and  Danton,  the 
center,  the  decisive  crisis,  wherein  the  reason  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  Revolution  seemed  to  waver,  and  their 
common  faith  be  sacrificed  to  personal  hatred.  In  Leg 
Loups,  where  the  Revolution  is  depicted  on  the  field 
of  battle,  and  in  Le  Triomphe  de  la  Raison,  where 


8  ROMAIN  HOLLAND 

it  goes  out  into  the  provinces  in  pursuit  of  the 
Girondin  prescripts,  it  devours  itself."  Thus  M. 
Rolland. 

The  remaining  plajs  are  three  in  number,  and  in- 
ferior in  dramatic  and  literary  quality  to  the  six  just 
discussed.  The  first  of  these  is  an  anti-war  propa- 
ganda piece,  Le  Temps  viendra,  published  in  1903,  and 
inspired  by  the  Boer  war.  La  Montespan,  a  French 
historical  drama,  followed  in  1904,  and  Les  Troig 
Amoureuses,  also  based  upon  history,  in  1906. 

In  order  to  grasp  the  full  significance  of  M.  Rol- 
land's  plays  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider  his  inter- 
esting book,  Le  Theatre  du  Peuple.  Ever  since  the 
early  eighties  M.  Rolland  had  been  a  staunch  admirer 
and  in  some  ways  a  disciple  of  Tolstoy.  The  young 
Frenchman,  however,  expressed  his  doubts  to  the  Rus- 
sian, and  in  1887  Tolstoy  wrote  a  long  letter  which 
was,  according  to  one  of  M.  RoUand's  biographers,  a 
sort  of  preliminary  sketch  for  What  Is  Art?  And 
when  that  astounding  book  appeared,  with  its  icono- 
clastic attacks  on  M.  Rolland's  idols,  he  was  at  first 
prone  to  disagree,  but  Le  Theatre  du  Peuple  is  ample 
proof  that  "  literature  for  the  people  "  had  sunk  deep 
into  the  Frenchman's  heart.  The  theater,  in  common 
with  most  modern  art,  is  a  whitened  sepulcher,  rotten 
to  the  core,  affected,  aristocratic,  anti-democratic. 
The  evil  is  not  only  in  the  plays,  but  in  acting  and 
the  physical  arrangement  of  the  playhouse  itself.  New 
plays  must  be  written  for  the  masses,  plays  which  they 
can  understand,  plays  which  bring  them  together  as 
a  class  and  in  which  they  can  participate.    M.  Rolland 


AND  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER  9 

brieflj  considers  the  dramatic  masterpieces  of  the 
world,  from  Sophocles  to  the  comedies  of  the  boulevard, 
and  finds  them,  with  rare  exceptions,  unsuited  to  the 
people.  Even  Shakespeare  and  Schiller  are  lifeless: 
they  belong  to  past  epochs,  and  express  ideas  foreign 
to  the  French  workingmen  of  the  twentieth  century. 
The  playhouses,  too,  are  built  for  a  society  divided  into 
classes;  these  must  be  altered  to  suit  the  workingmen. 
Says  M.  Rolland  in  the  preface  to  the  first  edition: 
"  Of  late  there  has  been  an  attempt  to  found  a  People's 
Theater  in  Paris.  Already  personal  and  political  in- 
terests have  begun  to  make  themselves  evident.  But 
we  must  unflinchingly  destroy  the  parasites  who  seek 
a  living  at  the  expense  of  our  theater.  The  People's 
Theater  is  not  a  fashionable  toy;  it  is  no  game  for 
dilettanti.  It  is  the  imperious  expression  of  a  new 
society,  its  voice  and  thought;  it  is,  as  a  result  of 
circumstances,  the  war-machine  against  an  ageing  and 
fossilized  society.  Let  there  be  no  misunderstanding: 
we  must  not  merely  open  up  new  old  theaters,  bour- 
geois theaters  endeavoring  to  appear  new  merely  by 
calling  themselves  people's  theaters.  We  must  found 
a  theater  by  and  for  the  people,  a  new  art  for  a  new 
world." 

Having  tested  the  plays  of  the  past  and  found  them 
wanting,  M.  Rolland  set  himself  the  task  of  supplying 
plays  for  his  projected  people's  theater.  As  we  have 
seen,  he  went  to  the  Revolution,  and  wrote  plays  which 
would  appeal  to  the  masses.  But  these  plays  must  also 
be  acted  by  the  people,  and  M.  Rolland  proceeded  to 
make  the  people  a  character,  a  great  composite  crowd, 


10  ROMAIN  HOLLAND 

participating  as  The  People.  In  Le  14  Juillet,  The 
People  are  the  protagonist,  and  the  taking  of  the 
Bastille  afforded  him  ample  opportunity  for  utilizing 
them.  In  Danton  they  are  rather  implied  until  the 
last  act,  while  in  Les  Loups  and  Le  Triomphe  de  la 
Raison  they  hover  in  the  background  and  determine 
the  course  of  events:  they  are  always  near  at  hand, 
although  they  do  not  appear  on  the  stage.  M.  Hol- 
land must  of  course  be  a  confirmed  enemy  to  our  star- 
system,  and  there  is,  even  in  the  hero-play  of  Danton, 
a  fairly  even  distribution  of  parts.  The  effect  is  at 
first  somewhat  disconcerting,  and  the  plays  seem  a 
trifle  discursive  and  rambling,  but  this  is  doubtless 
due  to  the  fact  that  we  are  accustomed  to  the  Sardou 
method  of  handling  historical  themes.  There  is  no 
conventional  plot,  and  the  love-interest,  as  developed 
in  such  a  play  as  Patrie,  is  conspicuously  absent.  In 
its  stead  there  is  greater  breadth  of  touch,  a  solider 
framework,  a  broader  canvas;  and  the  artist,  we  in- 
stinctively feel,  is  better  able  to  depict  a  great  move- 
ment like  the  Revolution  than  if  he  were  confined  to 
raveling  and  unraveling  a  plot.  Possibly  M.  Holland's 
ignorance  of  or  disdain  for  the  tricks  of  the  dramatist's 
trade  has  lessened  the  purely  dramatic  tension  of  oc- 
casional scenes,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has  drawn 
characters — Hoche,  Desmoulins,  Danton,  Robespierre, 
among  others — which  Sardou  and  the  rest  could 
scarcely  have  conceived.  The  lovable  weakness  of 
Desmoulins,  the  dynamic  and  superhuman  power  of 
Danton,  have  never  been  so  vividly  set  forth  as  in  these 
plays,  and  the  Revolution,  so  often  exposed  as  a  series 


AND  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER  11 

of  more  or  less  exciting  events,  stands  forth  as  the 
most  human  of  all  stories. 

While  it  is  true  that  M.  Rolland  recognizes  the 
motive  power  of  the  people  in  the  first  two  plays  of 
his  Revolutionary  cycle,  and  while  they  direct  and 
influence  practically  every  event,  he  is  not  blind  to  the 
excesses  into  which  they  fell,  and  the  last  two  plays, 
Les  Loups  and  Le  Triomphe  de  la  Raison,  to  some 
extent  show  the  degeneration  of  the  people.  Les  Loups 
is  perhaps,  from  the  purely  theatrical  viewpoint,  the 
best  play  M.  Rolland  ever  wrote ;  it  treats  of  the  moral 
decay  of  the  Revolutionists,  and  the  situation  developed 
is  as  gripping  as  any  of  Henry  Bernstein's  famous 
second  acts.  A  former  nobleman  is  suspected  of  treach- 
ery by  his  fellow  ofiicers,  and  a  pretext  readily  found 
to  kill  him.  At  the  last  moment  one  of  his  comrades 
discovers  that  he  is  innocent;  however,  in  order  to 
conceal  the  treachery  of  a  successful  Revolutionary 
general,  he  is  sacrificed.  Le  Triomphe  de  la  Raison 
is  similar  in  theme.    . 

No  attempt  at  dramatic  reform,  no  theory,  no  ideal 
— whatever  its  eventual  worth — ought  to  obscure  the 
fact  that  all  of  M.  Rolland's  plays  are  unsuccessful 
from  the  viewpoint  of  production.  Good  reading  they 
undoubtedly  make;  literature  they  assuredly  are,  but 
they  have  not  pleased  audiences  for  consecutive  days, 
weeks,  and  months.  This  does  not  of  necessity  damn 
them,  but  it  should  cause  us  to  ask  whether  or  not 
they  belong  to  that  class  of  hybrids,  the  closet-drama. 
M.  Rolland's  first  mistake  was  in  writing  plays  for  a 
hypothetical  and  practically  nonexistent  public.     The 


18  ROMAIN  HOLLAND 

first  edition  of  Le  Theatre  du  Peuple  concludes  with 
these  words:  "Do  you  want  a  people's  art?  Then 
begin  by  having  a  people ! "  France  is  in  many  ways 
an  aristocratic  country  with  an  aristocratic  art;  it 
is  but  natural,  therefore,  that  all  reform  should  be 
slower  than  in  younger  countries ;  and  M.  Holland  in 
his  impatience  attempted  the  impossible.  In  trying  to 
avoid  what  was  conventional  in  the  French  drama,  he 
restricted  himself  to  a  more  or  less  formless  medium, 
and  the  people  -vyho  saw  his  plays  missed  what  they 
were  accustomed  to  see :  a  well-defined  story. 

What  success  would  have  attended  his  innovations 
in  another  country  it  is  hard  to  say ;  what  success  will 
attend  him  if  he  perseveres,  seems  easier  to  predict. 
The  past  five  years  have  witnessed  a  profound  change 
in  French  thought  and  art,  and  perhaps  Romain  Hol- 
land will  once  more  find  his  faith  justified  in  a  new 
France  where  the  people  shall  have  a  theater  of  their 
own.  Meantime,  his  ideas  have  spread  to  other  lands 
and  there  borne  the  fruit  he  had  hoped  would  flourish  in 
his  own  beloved  France. 

Ba&bett  H.  Clakk. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

{LE  U  JVILLET) 
A  Play  in  Three  Acts 


Pour  qu'une  nation  coit  libre. 
il    suffit    qu'elle    le    veuille. 
La  Fatbtte. 
nth  July.  i78g. 


[Le  H  Juillet  was  produced  in  Paris  in  1902.] 


18 


Dedicated  to  the  People  &f  Paris 


16 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

The  author  has  sought  moral  truth  in  this  play 
rather  than  anecdotic  exactitude.  He  has  seen  fit  to 
take  greater  liberty  with  the  action,  which  is  developed 
in  the  poetry  of  popular  legend,  than  in  Danton.  In 
that  play,  he  applied  himself  to  the  development  of 
the  psychology  of  certain  characters,  for  the  whole 
drama  is  concentrated  in  the  souls  of  three  or  four 
great  men.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  present  work: 
individuals  disappear  in  the  great  ocean  of  the  people. 
If  you  wish  to  represent  a  tempest,  you  must  not 
describe  each  wave,  but  a  whole  angry  sea:  an  exact 
rendering  of  details  is  much  less  important  than  the 
passionate  sweeping  truth  of  the  whole.  There  is  some- 
thing false  and  insulting  to  the  intelligence  in  the  dis- 
proportionate place  given  nowadays  to  historic  anec- 
dotes, tiny  incidents,  and  the  dust  shaken  out  of  the 
pages  of  history,  all  of  which  is  emphasized  at  the 
expense  of  the  human  side.  It  is  my  ideal  to  resuscitate 
the  forces  of  the  past,  reveal  once  more  the  springs  of 
action,  and  not  to  offer  a  cold  and  denatured  miniature 
to  the  curious  who  care  more  for  externals  than  for  the 
soul  of  the  hero.  I  have  endeavored  to  make  live  again 
the  heroism  and  the  faith  of  the  nation  in  the  throes 
of  the  Revolution  during  the  Republican  epoch,  in 
order  that  we,  a  nation  of  greater  maturity  and  more 
than  ever  conscious  of  the  great  destiny  that  awaits 

17 


18  AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

us,  may  continue  and  finish  the  work  interrupted  in 
1794.  If  we  are  strong  enough  to  realize  this,  we  are 
strong  enough  to  do  our  best  toward  the  accomplish- 
ment of  our  task.  The  end  of  art  is  not  dreams,  but 
life.    Action  should  spring  from  the  spectacle  of  action. 

Jlfne^  1901. 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS: 


La  Contat 

GONCHON 

LUCILE    DUPLESSIS 

De  Fluk 

Marie  Bouju,  the 

Fruit-dealer 

Be QUART 

First  Woman  of  the  People 

Robespierre 

Second  Woman  of 

THE  People 

A  Maniac 

First  Woman 

A  Porter 

Second  Woman 

A  Notary 

Third  Woman 

A  French  Guapj) 

A  Young  Girl 

A  Student 

Little  Julie 

A  Vagabond 

Hoche 

A  Shopkeeper 

HULIN 

First  News-crier 

Marat 

Second  News-crier 

Camille  Debmodlins 

An  Abbe 

ViNTIMILLE 

First  Bourgeois 

De  Launey 

Second  Bourgeois 

The  Man 

Third  Bourgeois 

Fourth  Bourgeois 

The  People:  French  Guards,  Swiss   Guards,  Pensioners, 
Carpenters,  Workingmen,  Children,  etc. 

Scene:  Paris  from  the  12th  to  the  14th  July,  1789. 

Act  I.  At  the  Palais-Royal,  Sunday  morn- 
ing, 12th  July. 

Act  II.  The  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine,  Mon- 
day night  and  Tuesday  morning, 
13th-14th  July. 

Act  III.  The  Bastille,  Tuesday  the  14th  July, 
from  four  to  seven  P.M. 


19 


ACT  I 

[The  Garden  of  the  Palais-Royal,  seen  from  the  Cafe 
de  Foy.  It  is  Sunday  the  12th  of  July,  1789. 
At  the  hack  is  the  "  Cirque  ";  at  the  right,  a  foun- 
tain, playing.  Between  the  "  Cirque "  and  the 
promenades  running  round  the  Palais-Royal  is  a 
row  of  trees.  The  shopkeepers  stand  before  their 
shops,  which  are  hung  with  patriotic  emblems: 
**  At  the  Sign  of  the  Great  Necker,"  "At  the  Sign 
of  the  National  Assembly,^*  etc.  Women,  with 
breasts,  shotdders,  and  arms  bare,  and  wearing 
immense  bouquets,  walk  about  among  the  crowd 
displaying  their  charms.  Newsdealers  cry  out  the 
news;  gambling-house  keepers  appear  here  and 
there  in  dressing-gowns,  escorted  by  men  armed 
rcith  clubs;  swindlers  brazenly  slip  between  groups 
of  people  with  their  folding  tabourets,  stop  for  an 
instant,  display  a  trick,  bring  out  sacks  of  silver, 
then  quickly  disappear  into  the  surging  mass.  The 
crowds  are  nervously  shifting  about,  sitting  at  the 
cafes,  jumping  up  and  around,  and  ready  to  start 
at  the  least  disturbance.  The  crowds  gradually 
increase  up  to  the  end  of  the  act,  until  there  is  so 
Utile  room  left  that  the  more  venturesome  climb 
into  the  trees.  People  of  all  classes  are  present: 
starving  vagabonds,  workingmen,  bourgeois,  aris- 
tocratSf   soldifTSi   priests,   women,   and   children. 


S2  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

some  of  whom  play  about  between  the  legs  of  the 
others.'] 

News-ceiees.  Great  plot  discovered !  Famine,  fam- 
ine is  at  hand !     The  murderers  have  come ! 

The  Crowd  [calling  to  the  news-criers].  Here! 
Sst! 

A  Man  of  the  People  [anxiously,  to  a  bourgeois, 
who  is  reading].     Well? 

The  Bourgeois.  My  good  fellow,  they  are  com- 
ing! They're  coming!  The  Germans,  the  Swiss 
Guards!  Paris  is  surrounded!  They'll  be  here  any 
minute ! 

The  Man  of  the  People.  The  King  won't  let 
them. 

A  Vagabond.  The  King?  He's  with  them  at  the 
camp  of  Sablons,  surrounded  by  Germans. 

The  Man  of  the  People.  The  King  is  a  French- 
man. 

The  Bourgeois.  The  King,  yes,  but  not  the  Queen. 
The  Austrian  woman  hates  us.  Her  brigand  Marshal 
de  Broglie  has  sworn  to  raze  Paris  to  the  ground.  We 
are  caught  between  the  cannon  of  the  Bastille  and  the 
troops  of  the  Champ  de  Mars. 

A  Student.  They  won't  make  a  move.  Monsieur 
Necker  is  at  Versailles ;  he  will  take  care  of  us. 

The  Bourgeois.  Yes,  so  long  as  he  remains  Min- 
ister, we  must  not  lose  our  faith  in  him. 

The  Vagabond.  But  who  says  he  still  is  ?  They've 
dismissed  him. 

All   [protesting].    No,  no,  he's  still  Minister. — 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  23 

The  newspaper  says  he  will  remain  Minister. — Good! 
If  Monsieur  Necker  weren't  there,  everything  would 
be  lost. 

Women  [promenading  ahcmt'\.  No  business  today! 
They  are  all  quite  mad.  They  think  of  nothing  but 
Versailles. — The  little  fellow  who  was  with  me  just  now 
spoke  of  nothing  but  Necker. — Say,  is  it  true  that  that 
damned  Austrian  threw  our  deputies  into  prison.? 

The  Swindlers  [mysteriously  shaking  their  bags  of 
silver  under  the  noses  of  the  passers-by] .  Fine  Sunday 
morning  I  Ten  o'clock  and  the  garden  is  full !  What 
will  it  be  soon  ? — Fine  show  and  a  small  crop !  They're 
here  to  get  the  latest  news. — Oh,  if  you  only  know  how 
to  go  about  it — ! 

GoNCHON  [to  the  shopkeepers].  Now,  you  fellows, 
stir  yourselves,  stir  yourselves!  Business  isn't  every- 
thing. Of  course,  business  must  be  carried  on,  but 
we  must  be  good  patriots,  too.  Keep  your  eyes  open. 
I  warn  you,  things  are  beginning  to  happen ! 

A  Shopkeeper.  Do  you  know  something.  Monsieur 
Gonchon  ? 

GoNCHON.  Careful.  Grain  is  coming.  Every  one 
at  his  post.  When  the  moment  comes,  give  it  to  those 
idiots,  and  howl  all  together — 

A  Shopkeeper.     Long  live  the  Nation ! 

Gonchon  [hitting  him].  Shut  up,  you  fool. 
"  Long  live  the  Due  d'Orleans ! "  Then,  if  you  like, 
both. 

Camille  Desmoulins  [who  has  just  come  from  a 
gambling-den — excited,  laughing  and  stammering]. 
Plucked!     They've  cleaned  me! — I  knew  it:  I  said  to 


24  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

myself,  "  Camille,  you're  going  to  get  plucked."  Now 
you're  satisfied!  It's  done.  Well,  I  don't  have  it  to 
do  over  again.  I  always  foresee  the  stupid  things  I 
am  going  to  do.  Thank  God,  I  don't  lack  a  single — 
anyway,  I've  killed  two  hours.  What  news  from  Ver- 
sailles?— Oh,  the  rascal!  They  are  thick  as  thieves 
at  a  fair.  The  gambling-dens  advertise,  "  You  come 
in  to  pass  the  time."  You've  got  to  occupy  your 
hands  and  the  rest!  That  is  why  cards  and  women 
were  invented.  They  can  relieve  you  of  useless  money. 
Now  my  pockets  weigh  nothing  at  all!  Who  wants 
to  see  a  brand-tiew  purse  ?     Oh,  there's  not  a  piece  left. 

Women  [mocking  him] .  "  They  stir  you  up,  up, 
up,  they'll  stir  you  up." 

Camille  Desmoulins.  You  bats  of  Venus,  you're 
very  proud,  indeed,  to  have  swindled  a  poor  devil  like 
me !  But,  Good  God,  he's  not  angry  with  you.  "  I'd 
lose  it  again  if  I  had  it  to  lose." 

An  Old  Bouegeois.  The  gambler's  purse  has  no 
strings. 

GoNCHON.  Young  man,  I  see  you  are  in  trouble. 
To  oblige  you,  I  will  lend  you  three  ^cus  on  that  chain. 

Desmoulins.  Generous  Gonchon,  do  you  want  to 
strip  me  naked  like  St.  John.^  Leave  that  to  the  la- 
dies :  they  will  do  very  well  without  your  assistance. 

Gonchon.  You  little  guttersnipe,  do  you  know 
whom  you  are  addressing? 

Desmoulins.  Gonchon — merely  Gonchon !  You  are 
a  jeweler,  usurer,  vendor  of  lemonade,  and  keeper  of 
a  brothel.  You  are  everything:  Gonchon,  king  of  the 
gambling-den  keepers. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  25 

GoNCHON.  What  do  you  mean  by  your  "  gambling- 
dens  "  ?  I  have  merely  founded  clubs  where,  under  the 
pretext  of  enjoying  themselves  by  honest  and  natural 
means,  men  may  gather  and  discuss  methods  of  reform- 
ing the  State.  They  are  assemblies  of  free  citizens, 
patriots — 

Desmoulins.     Where  does  the  Patrie  come  in? 

GoNCHON.     The  Society  of  the  Men  of  Nature — 

Desmoulins.     Women  of  Nature! 

GoNCHON.  A  very  bad  joke.  If  you  haven't 
enough  shame  to  respect  a  respectable  man,  you  might 
at  least  respect  the  sign  beneath  the  egis  of  which 
stands  my  house. 

DT^sMovijias  \without  loolcmg'].  What  sign?  "The 
Forty  Thieves  "? 

GoNCHON  [furiously] .     "  The  Great  Necker  " ! 

Desmoulins.  That  is  rather  hard  on  him,  Gonchon. 
[He  looks  at  the  sign.]     What  is  on  the  other  side? 

Gonchon.     Nothing. 

Desmoulins.     I  see  another  picture. 

Gonchon.  The  Due  d'Orleans — two  sides  of  the 
same  head. 

Desmoulins.  The  front  and  the  back!  [The  by- 
standers laugh.  Gonchon,  rvith  his  associates^  ad- 
vances upon  Desmoulins.]  Very  well!  I  advise  you 
not  to  drive  me  to  crush  you  with  my  Pretorian  Guard ! 
Do  you  want  a  certificate  of  citizenship?  Oh,  Janus 
Gonchon,  I  make  you  a  present  of  it.  You  give  bread 
to  every  sneak  in  Paris,  and  take  it  from  the  honest 
people,  so  that  they  have  only  one  desire:  to  go  and 
fight.     Audax  et  edax.     Long  live  the  Revolution! 


26  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

GoNCHON.  I  forgive  you,  because  it  wouldn't  do  to 
duel  with  the  enemy  at  our  gates,  but  I'll  meet  you  soon 
before  the  men  of  Versailles. 

Desmgulins.     Are  they  really  coming? 

GoNCHON.  Ah,  you  turn  pale? — Yes,  the  struggle 
is  at  hand.  The  mercenaries  from  Lorraine  and  Flan- 
ders are  in  the  Plain  of  Grenelle,  the  artillery  at  Saint- 
Denis;  the  German  cavalry  at  the  Ecole  militaire. 
The  Marshal,  with  all  his  aides-de-camp,  is  giving  or- 
ders for  war  at  Versailles.  They  are  going  to  attack 
tonight. 

A  Woman.     Good  God,  what  will  becomes  of  us  ? 

A  BouEGEOis.  The  bandits!  They  treat  us  like 
enemies ! 

A  WoEKiNGMAN  [to  Gonchon].  How  do  you  know 
that?  The  road  to  Versailles  is  cut  off.  They've  sta- 
tioned cannon  at  the  Pont  de  Sevres.     No  one  can  pass. 

Gonchon.  Suspicious,  eh?  I'll  make  the  first  man 
who  doubts  my  patriotism  swallow  my  fist.  Don't  you 
know  Gonchon? 

The  Woekingman.  We  don't  suspect  you. — Don't 
get  excited. — We've  too  much  to  do  to  get  into  a 
quarrel  with  you.  We  only  asked  you  where  you  got 
your  information? 

Gonchon.  You  haven't  the  right  to  ask  me.  I 
know  what  I  know.     I  have  a  way  of  knowing. 

Anothee  Woekingman  Ito  the  First].  Let  him 
alone ;  he's  all  right. 

A  BouEGEOis.     Lord,  what  shall  we  do? 

A  Student.  To  the  gates!  Everybody  to  the 
gates !     Don't  let  them  in ! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  27 

A  BouBGEOis.  As  if  they  could  stop  them!  Poor 
people  like  ourselves,  without  arms !  What  do  they 
know  of  war!  Can  they  keep  out  the  best  troops  of 
the  kingdom? 

Anothek.  They're  in  already!  And  there's  the 
Bastille ;  it's  like  a  cancer — incurable ! 

A  WoEKiNGMAN.  The  vile  monster !  Who  will  free 
us? 

A  Student.  They've  already  made  a  company  of 
Swiss  Guards  retreat  today. 

Anothee.  Their  cannon  are  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Antoine. 

A  WoRKiNGMAN.  Can't  do  a  thing  while  we  have 
this  bit  in  our  mouths.     We've  got  to  take  it  out  first. 

A  Bourgeois.     How? 

A  WoEKiNGMAN.  I  dou't  kuow  how,  but  it's  got  to 
be  done. 

All  [seriously  and  incredulously].  Take  the  Bas- 
tille?    [They  turn  to  one  another.] 

News-criees  [in  the  distance].  Latest  news!  Des- 
perate struggle! 

A  Man  [shabby  and  pale,  with  the  air  of  a  maniac]. 
We  haven't  anything  to  fear  from  the  soldiers.  They 
won't  attack. 

A  Student.     What ! 

The  Maniac.  They  won't  attack.  They've  got  a 
simpler  plan:  they'll  just  blockade  us.  They'll  starve 
us  out. 

A  WoEKiNGMAN.  Well,  if  they  do  it  for  very  long, 
we'll  take  the  road.  We've  lost  a  whole  day  waiting 
for  bread  at  the  bakeries. 


28  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

A  Woman.     You  can't  get  grain. 

Thje  Maniac.     It  won't  arrive  tomorrow. 

A  BouBGEOis.     But  what  are  they  doing  with  it? 

The  Maniac.  I  know:  they've  thrown  it  into  the 
quarries  of  Senlis  and  Chautilly  to  let  it  rot,  and  keep 
us  from  eating  it. 

The  Boubgeois  [incredulously'\.    Nonsense! 

The  Maniac.     It's  true! 

A  Woman.  It  is  true.  In  Champagne  the  cavalry 
ruined  the  wheat  crop  in  order  to  starve  us. 

The  Maniac.  Worse  than  that !  They  poison  the 
bread  they  give  us:  it  burns  your  throat  and  your 
insides.  Twenty  people  died  of  it  in  my  part  of  the 
city.  The  order  came  from  Versailles.  They  want  to 
kill  us  like  rats. 

Desmoulins.  Absurd.  No  king  wants  to  murder 
his  people.  Only  a  Nero  would  do  that,  and  our  king 
is  not  a  Nero. 

The  Maniac  [mysteriously].  I  know  what  the 
matter  is :  there  are  too  many  people,  and  they've  given 
orders  to  depopulate  the  country. 

Pesmouijns.  You're  sick,  my  friend,  you  need  at- 
tention. 

A  WoEKiNGMAN.  There's  truth  in  what  he  says, 
though.  The  Queen  would  be  glad  to  see  us  all 
dead. 

Desmoulins.     Why  so? 

The  Woekingman.  She's  an  Austrian.  The  Aus- 
trians  have  always  been  enemies  of  France.  She  mar- 
ried our  king  in  order  to  injure  us.  We  can't  help 
being  nervous  so  long  as  she  is  here. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  29 

The  Others.  He's  right. — Out  of  France  with  the 
Austrian ! 

La  Contat  [in  the  midst  of  the  Crowd].     Why? 

The  Crowd.     What? — What  do  you  mean? 

La  Contat  [shoTving  herself].  Yes,  why?  Are  you 
mad  to  say  such  things  about  the  most  charming  of 
women? 

The  Crowd.  Who  dares  say  anything  good  of  the 
Austrian  here  ? — Good  Lord,  why,  it's  an  insult  to  us  ! 

Desmoulins  [to  La  Contat].  Don't  say  another 
word.     You'd  better  get  out  and  not  answer  them. 

La  Contat.     I  am  in  no  hurry. 

Desmoulins.  They're  gathering  strength  from  all 
sides. 

La  Contat.     So  much  the  better ! 

A  Vagabond.  What  did  you  say,  aristocrat? 
What  did  you  say? 

La  Contat  [brushing  him  aside].  Don't  sniff  at 
me.     I  said.  Long  live  the  Queen! 

The  Crowd  [exasperated].     By  God! 

A  Clerk.  There's  a  girl  who  needs  a  good  thrash- 
ing. 

La  Contat.  There's  a  face  that  needn't  wait  for 
one!     [She  slaps  him.] 

The  Clerk.     Help!     [Some  laugh,  others  shout.] 

The  Crowd  [gathering  round].  Come  and  see! — 
What's  the  matter? — An  aristocrat  assaulting  a  pa- 
triot ! — Into  the  river ! 

Desmoulins.     Citizens,  it's  only  a  joke. 

The  Crowd  [furiously].     To  the  river! 

HuLiN  [bullying  the  Crowd].     Here!     [He  stands 


80  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

before  La  Contat.]  You  know  me,  comrades,  I  am 
Hulin.  You  saw  me  at  work  the  other  day :  I  smashed 
in  the  gate  of  the  Abbey  to  save  our  friends  the  French 
Guards,  who  were  imprisoned.  I'll  smash  in  the  head 
of  the  first  man  who  comes  a  step  nearer.  Respect  the 
women,  I  tell  you!  If  you  want  to  fight,  there's  no 
lack  of  enemies.     Go  and  find  them. 

The  Crowd.  He's  right. — Bravo ! — ^No,  he  isn't ! — 
She  insulted  us ! — She's  got  to  apologize !  On  her 
knees,  the  aristocrat! — Make  her  cry  Down  with  the 
Queen ! 

La  Contat.  I  won't  cry  anything.  [To  Des- 
MouLiNS.]  Help  me  to  get  up  here.  [She  stands  on 
a  tahle.^  If  you  bully  me  any  more  I'll  cry  Down 
with  Necker!  [Cries  from  the  Crowd.]  I'm  not  afraid 
of  you.  Do  you  think  you  can  frighten  me  because 
you're  a  mob,  and  your  hundred  mouths  are  yapping 
at  me.'*  I  have  only  one,  but  I  can  make  myself  heard. 
I'm  used  to  talking  to  the  people.  I  face  you  every 
night:  I  am  Mademoiselle  Contat. 

The  Ceowd.  Contat  of  the  Theatre-Fran9ai8 ! — 
The  Theatre-Fran9ais ! — Oh,  let's  see  her ! — Silence ! 

La  Contat.  So  you  don't  like  the  Queen?  Do  you 
want  her  sent  away?  Would  you  like  to  exile  every 
pretty  woman  from  France?  You  have  only  to  say 
the  word :  we'll  pack  up  and  go.  See  what  will  happen 
without  us.  You  really  make  me  laugh,  calling  me  an 
aristocrat!  I'm  the  daughter  of  a  herring-dealer,  who 
kept  shop  just  under  the  Chatelet.  I  work  like  the  rest 
of  you.  I  am  for  Necker  just  as  you  are.  I'm  for 
the  Assembly,  but  I  don't  like  to  be  bullied,  and  I 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY.  31 

really  think  if  you  took  it  into  your  heads  to  try  to 
make  me  cry  Long  live  Comedy,  I  would  cry  Down 
with  Moliere !  You  may  think  whatever  you  like : 
there's  no  law  against  stupidity,  but  then  there's 
ilo  law  against  those  who  still  have  a  little  common 
sense.  I  like  the  Queen,  and  I  am  not  afraid  to 
say  so. 

A  Student.  Of  course:  they  both  have  the  Comte 
d'Artois  for  a  lover! 

Two  WoRKiNGMEN.  What  a  lie! — She  can  cer- 
tainly talk ! 

Desmoulins.  Citizens,  we  cannot  ask  a  queen  to 
speak  against  royalty.  Here  is  the  true  queen!  The 
others  are  make-believe  royalty,  whose  only  function 
is  to  bear  dauphins.  Once  the  little  one  is  born,  they 
have  nothing  else  to  do.  They  live  at  our  expense, 
and  they  are  costly  luxuries.  It  would  be  best  to  send 
this  Austrian  fowl  back  to  her  coop,  from  which  she 
was  brought  at  great  cost — as  if  we  lacked  women  in 
France  to  bear  children!  But  the  queens  of  the  the- 
ater! Ah,  they  are  intended  to  give  happiness  to  the 
people.  Every  hour  of  their  life  is  devoted  to  our 
service.  Every  bit  of  them  is  devoted  to  our  pleasure ; 
they  belong  to  us,  they  are  our  national  property. 
By  Venus  of  the  Beautiful  Cheeks,  let  us  defend  her, 
and  all  shout:  Long  live  the  Queen,  the  true  Queen, 
La  Contat!     [Laughter  and  applause.] 

The  Crowd.     Long  live  Queen  Contat ! 

La  Contat.  Thank  you.  [To  Desmoulins.] 
Give  me  your  arm;  you're  nicer  than  the  others. — 
Have  you  feasted  your  eyes  enough.''     Very  well,  then 


32  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

let  me  by.  If  you  want  to  see  me  again,  you  know  the 
way  to  the  Theater. — What  is  your  name? 

Desmoulins.  Camille  Desmoulins. — How  imprudent 
of  you!     I  told  you — weren't  you  afraid? 

La  Contat.     Of  what? 

Desmoulins.     They  nearly  killed  you. 

La  Contat.  The  idea !  They  shout,  of  course,  but 
they  never  do  anything. 

Desmoulins.  You  are  blind.  They  are  right  who 
say  that  to  despise  danger  is  merely  to  be  unaware  of 
it. 

The  Ceowd.  The  little  lady  has  warmth  in  her 
eyes ! — Elsewhere,  too ! 

A  WoRKiNGMAN.  That's  all  very  well,  Mademoi- 
selle, but  it's  not  the  thing  to  set  yourself  against  the 
poor  like  us,  and  side  with  the  people  who  are  exploit- 
ing us ! 

The  Maniac.     Lord,  she's  a  monopolist ! 

La  Contat.     What !     A  monopolist ! 

The  Maniac.     Look  at  your  wig. 

La  Contat.     Well? 

The  Maniac.  All  that  powder!  There's  enough 
flour  on  the  necks  of  the  idle  rich  to  feed  the  poor  of 
Paris  1 

The  Woekingman  [to  La  Contat].  Never  mind 
him ;  he's  crazy.  If  you  have  a  good  heart.  Mademoi- 
selle— and  I  can  see  in  your  eyes  tha.t  you  have — how 
can  you  defend  the  cut-throats  who  want  to  destroy  us  ? 

La  Contat.  Destroy  you,  my  friend?  Who  told 
you  that? 

A  Student.     Don't  you  know?     Here's  the  latest 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  SS 

letter  from  the  Austrian's  man,  the  Jesuit  Marshal, 
the  old  assassin,  the  ass  decorated  with  amulets, 
relics,  and  medals:  de  Broglie!  Do  you  know  what 
he  says? 

Crowd.     Read !     Read ! 

The  Student.  They  have  conspired.  They  want 
to  break  up  our  States-General,  take  away  our  deputies 
and  throw  them  into  prison,  expel  our  Necker,  sell  Lor- 
raine to  the  Emperor  for  money  to  pay  their  soldiers, 
bombard  Paris  and  kill  the  inhabitants.  The  plot  is 
scheduled  for  tonight. 

GoNCHON.  Did  you  hear  that?  Isn't  that  enough, 
or  do  you  want  still  more  to  stir  you  up?  Good  God, 
are  we  to  let  them  stick  us  like  pigs?  God  Almighty, 
to  arms !  To  arms ! — ^Luckily,  we  have  a  protector ; 
he's  watching  over  us :  Long  live  Orleans ! 

Gonchon's  Followeks.     Long  live  Orleans! 

The  Ceowd.  To  arms !  Let's  march  against 
them ! 

Marat  [^rising  from  the  Crowd,  and  standing  on  a 
chair.  He  is  a  small  man,  and  appears  nervous  and 
deeply  agitated.  He  stands  tip-toe,  and  then  speaks 
•with  all  his  power] .  Stop !  You  poor  wretches,  where 
are  you  going?  Don't  you  see  that  the  cut-throats 
are  only  waiting  for  an  insurrection  in  Paris  to  swoop 
down  upon  the  city?  Don't  listen  to  such  perfidious 
advice.  That  is  only  a  ruse  to  destroy  you.  Yes,  you, 
you  who  excite  the  people,  you  who  pretend  to  be  a 
patriot, — who  says  you  are  not  an  agent  of  despotism, 
whose  business  it  is  to  provoke  the  good  citizens  and 
deliver  them  into  the  hands  of  the  hordes  of  Versailles? 


84  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

Who  are  you?  Where  do  you  come  from?  Who  will 
guarantee  you?     /  don't  know  you. 

GoNCHON.     Well,  I  don't  know  you. 

Maeat.  If  you  don't  know  me,  you  are  a  scoundrel. 
I  am  known  wherever  there  is  virtue  and  poverty.  I 
spend  my  nights  taking  care  of  the  sick,  and  my  days 
taking  care  of  the  people.     My  name  is  Marat. 

GoNCHON.     I  don't  know  you. 

Marat.  If  you  don't,  you  will  before  long,  traitor ! 
Oh,  credulous  people,  absurd  people,  open  your  eyes. 
Do  you  realize  where  you  are?  What,  do  you  gather 
here  to  prepare  your  struggle  for  liberty?  Look, 
look  about  you!  This  is  the  gathering-place  of  all 
the  exploiters,  all  the  idle  classes,  swindlers,  thieves, 
prostitutes,  disguised  spies,  the  instruments  of  the  aris- 
tocracy! [Howls,  protestations,  and  the  like,  from 
one  part  of  the  Crowd,  which  cries:  "  Down  mth  him!  " 
and  bare  their  fists.] 

Desmoulins.  Bravo,  Marat!  Struck  the  nail  on 
the  head! 

La  Contat.  Who  is  that  dirty  little  fellow  with 
such  beautiful  eyes  ? 

Desmoulins.     A  doctor-journalist. 

Anothee  Part  of  the  Ceowd.  Go  on !  [They  ap- 
plavd.] 

Maeat.  I  care  nothing  for.  the  howling  of  these 
traitors,  these  accomplices  of  famine  and  servitude! 
They  rob  you  of  what  money  you  have  left ;  they  drain 
your  strength  with  their  women,  and  your  good  sense 
with  liquor !  Fools !  And  you  put  yourselves  in  their 
clutches,  and  blurt  out  your  secrets  to  them!     You 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  85 

give  yourselves  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Behind 
each  pillar,  at  the  corner  of  each  cafe,  beside  you,  at 
your  table,  a  spy  listens  to  you,  watches  you,  takes 
down  what  you  say,  and  prepares  your  destruction* 
You  who  want  to  be  free,  leave  this  sink  of  vice !  Be- 
fore entering  the  supreme  struggle,  begin  by  counting 
your  forces.  Where  are  your  weapons?  You  have 
none.  Forge  your  pikes,  I  tell  you,  make  your 
muskets!  Where  are  your  friends?  You  have  none. 
Your  own  neighbor  betrays  you.  Perhaps  the  man 
you  shake  hands  with,  is  delivering  you  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy.  And  you  yourselves,  are  you  sure  of 
yourselves?  You  are  at  war  with  corruption,  and  you 
are  corrupted.  [Howls  from  the  Crowd.]  You  pro- 
test? If  the  aristocracy  offered  you  gold  and  food, 
do  you  dare  swear  that  you  would  not  become  aristo- 
crats yourselves?  You  cannot  silence  me  with  your 
protestations.  You  will  hear  the  truth.  You  are  too 
accustomed  to  flatterers  who  court  your  favor  and  be- 
tray you.  You  are  vain,  proud,  frivolous:  you  have 
neither  strength,  character,  nor  virtue.  You  waste 
your  strength  in  talk.  You  are  effeminate,  vacillating, 
will-less ;  you  tremble  at  the  sight  of  a  musket — 

Ceowd.     That'll  do !— Enough ! 

Marat.  You  shout  "  Enough  " !  I,  too,  and  even 
louder:  Enough  of  vice,  enough  of  stupidity,  enough  of 
cowardice !  Band  yourselves  together,  strike  from 
your  midst  all  who  are  false  to  the  cause,  purify  your 
minds,  and  gird  your  loins.  Oh,  my  fellow-citizens,  I 
tell  you  these  truths  a  little  harshly,  perhaps,  but  it  is 
because  I  love  you! 


86  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

La  Contat.     See!     He's  crying! 

Marat.  They  give  you  opium,  but  I  pour  burning 
liquor  on  your  bleeding  wounds,  and  I  will  continue  to 
do  so  until  you  realize  your  rights  and  your  duties, 
until  you  are  free,  until  you  are  happy.  Yes,  in  spite 
of  your  frivolousness,  you  will  be  happy,  you  will  be 
happy,  or  I  shall  cease  to  exist !  [He  ends,  his  cheeks 
streaming  with  tears,  his  voice  broken  with  sohs.^ 

La  Contat.  His  cheeks  are  running  with  tears! 
How  funny  he  is  I 

The  Crowd  [half  laughing,  the  other  half  applaud- 
ing^ .  There's  a  real  friend  of  the  people !  Long  live 
Marat!  [They  surround  him,  put  him  on  their  shoul- 
ders and,  in  spite  of  his  struggles,  carry  him  about.] 

HuLiN  [catching  sight  of  a  little  girl  who  is  looking 
at  Marat,  her  eyes  full  of  tears].  What's  the  trouble, 
little  one?  You're  crying,  too ?  [The  Little  Girl  keeps 
her  eyes  fixed  on  Marat,  whose  bearers  have  now  al- 
lowed him  to  alight.    She  runs  to  him.] 

LiTTi^  Julie  [to  Marat,  her  hands  clasped]. 
Don't  cry!    Don't  cry! 

Marat  [looking  at  her].     What  is  it,  little  one? 

JuME.  Don't  be  unhappy,  please !  We'll  be  better, 
I  promise,  we  won't  be  cowards  any  more.  We  won't 
lie;  we'll  be  good,  I  swear!  [The  Crowd  laughs. 
HuLiN  motions  those  near  him  to  be  silent,  and  not 
interrupt  the  Little  Girl.  Marat,  who  is  seated,  as- 
sumes a  different  expression  as  he  listens  to  her.  His 
face  brightens,  and  he  looks  tenderly  at  the  child,  and 
takes  her  hands  in  his.] 

Maeat.     Why  do  you  cry? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  «7 

Julie.     Because  you  cry. 

Marat.     Do  you  know  me? 

Julie.     When  I  was  sick,  you  took  care  of  me. 

Marat  ^draws  her  tenderly  toward  him,  and  looks 
into  her  eyes,  smoothing  her  hair  back  from  her  face.] 
Yes,  your  name  is  Julie.  Your  mother  is  a  washer- 
woman. You  had  measles  last  winter.  You  were 
afraid.  You  cried  as  you  lay  in  your  little  bed,  be- 
cause you  didn't  want  to  die.  [She  turns  her  head 
away.  He  takes  the  child's  head  and  presses  it  to  his 
breast  as  he  smiles.]  Don't  be  ashamed.  So,  you  un- 
derstood me,  eh,?  You  are  with  me?  Do  you  know 
what  I  should  like.? 

Julie.  Yes,  and  I  want  it,  too —  [The  rest  of  her 
sentence  is  lost,  as  she  hesitates.] 

Marat.     What  ? 

Julie  [raising  her  head  and  speaking  with  an  air  of 
conviction  that  causes  the  bystanders  to  smile].  Lib- 
erty. 

Marat.     What  would  you  do  with  it? 

Julie.     Give  it. 

Marat.     To  whom? 

Julie.     To  the  poor  people  who  are  in  prison. 

Marat.     Where  ? 

Julie.  There — in  the  big  prison.  They're  alone  all 
the  time,  and  people  forget  them.  [The  attitude  of  the 
Crowd  changes.  It  has  become  serious;  some  frown 
and  do  not  look  at  their  neighbors.  They  stare 
at  the  ground,  and  appear  to  be  speaking  to  them- 
selves.] 

Marat.     How  do  you  know  that,  little  one? 


38  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

Julie.  I  know — I've  been  told.  I  often  think  about 
them,  at  night. 

Marat  {^smoothing  her  hair].  But  you  must  sleep 
at  night. 

Julie  [after  a  few  moments'  pause^  takes  Maeat's 
handy  and  says  with  passion].  We  will  free  them, 
won't  we? 

Maeat.     But  how.? 

Julie.     Go  there  all  together. 

The  Ceowd  [laughi/ng].  Ha!  It's  so  easy!  [The 
Little  Girl  raises  her  eyes,  and  sees  the  circle  of  curious 
onlookers  staring  at  her.  She  is  frightened  and 
hides  her  head  in  her  arm,  which  rests  on  Hulin's 
table.] 

La  Contat.     Isn't  she  dear! 

Maeat  [looking  at  her].  Holy  virtue  of  childhood, 
pure  spark  of  goodness,  what  a  comfort  you  are! 
How  dark  would  the  world  be  without  children's  e3'es ! 
[He  goes  gravely  toward  the  child,  takes  her  hand, 
which  hangs  limp,  and  kisses  her.] 

A  Woman  of  the  People  [arriving  on  the  scene]. 
Julie!  Are  you  here!  What  are  you  doing  with  all 
these  people? 

Desmoulins.  She  was  addressing  the  crowd. 
[Laughter.] 

The  Mothee.  And  she  so  frightened!  What's 
got  into  her.''  [She  goes  to  Julie,  hut  the  moment  she 
touches  her,  the  little  one  runs  away  without  a  word, 
in  childish  rage.] 

The  Ceowd  [laughing  and  applauding].  Run 
away,  little  one !     [Loud  laughter  is  heard  at  the  other 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  39 

end  of  the  Garden.] — Come  here!  Come  along! — 
What  is  it?     They  are  ducking  a  countess! 

La  Contat.     Ducking  a  countess? 

The  Crowd.  She  insulted  the  people!  They're 
ducking  her  in  the  fountain! 

La  Contat  [on  Desmoulins'  arm,  laughing].  Let's 
run!     How  amusing! 

Desmoulins.  The  most  amusing  performance  in 
Europe ! 

La  Contat.  Insolent!  What  about  the  Comedie? 
[They  go  out  laughing.  The  Crowd  surges  out. 
Maeat  and  Hulin  are  down-stage  alone;  Makat 
stands,  while  Hulin  sits  at  a  cafe  table.  The  back  of 
the  stage  is  crowded;  some  are  standing  on  chairs, 
watching  to  see  what  is  happening  in  the  Garden. 
People  walk  about  under  the  galleries  beyond  Marat 
and  Hulin.] 

Marat  [pointing  toward  the  Crowd].  Actors! 
They  are  not  seeking  liberty ;  they  prefer  plays !  To- 
day, when  their  very  lives  are  in  danger,  they  think  of 
nothing  but  performing  for  each  other.  I  want  noth- 
ing to  do  with  such  people!  Their  insurrections  are 
nothing  but  absurd  antics.  I  don't  want  to  see  any 
more  of  them.  Oh,  to  live  shut  up  in  a  cave,  hear 
nothing  of  the  noise  outside,  to  be  free  from  the  vileness 
of  the  world!  [He  sits  down,  his  head  between  his 
hands.] 

Hulin  [tranquilly  smoking,  with  a  look  of  irony, 
says  to  Marat]  .  Come,  Monsieur  Marat,  you  mustn't 
be  discouraged.  It's  not  worth  it.  They  are  only  big 
children  playing.     You  know  them  as  well  as  I  do: 


40  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

they  don't  mean  anything  by  that.  Why  take  it  so 
tragically  ? 

Marat  [raising  his  head,  says  with  determination^. 
Who  are  you? 

HuLiN.  I  come  from  your  country — Neuchatel  in 
Switzerland.  Don't  you  remember  me.'*  I  know  you 
very  well.  I  saw  you  when  you  were  a  child — at 
Boudry. 

Marat.     So  you  are  Hulin,  Augustin  Hulin? 

HuLiN.     Right ! 

Marat.  What  are  you  doing  here.?  You  were  a 
clock-maker  in  Geneva. 

Hulin.  I  led  a  quiet  life  there.  But  I  was  count- 
ing without  my  brother,  who  began  to  speculate.  He 
became  imbroiled  in  some  underhanded  scheme,  signed 
certain  papers — .  Naturally,  he  took  it  into  his  head 
to  die,  and  left  his  wife  and  a  child  of  three  for  me 
to  take  care  of.  I  sold  my  shop  to  pay  his  debts,  and 
came  to  Paris,  where  I  was  taken  into  the  service  of 
the  Marquis  de  Vintimille. 

Marat.  Then  I'm  not  surprised  at  your  cowardly 
words.     You  are  a  servant. 

Hulin.     What  if  I  am? 

Marat.  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  serve  another 
man? 

Hulin.  I  see  no  shame  in  it.  Each  of  us  serves, 
in  one  way  or  another.  Are  you  not  a  doctor.  Mon- 
sieur Marat?  You  spend  your  days  examining  peo- 
ple's wounds,  and  dressing  them  as  well  as  you  can. 
You  go  to  bed  very  late,  and  you  get  up  at  night  when 
your  patients  call  you.     Are  you  not  then  a  servant? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  41 

Makat.  I  serve  no  master:  I  serve  humanity.  But 
you.  are  the  valet  of  a  corrupt  man,  a  miserable  aris- 
tocrat. 

HuLiN.  I  don't  serve  him  because  he  is  corrupt. 
You  don't  ask  of  jour  patients  whether  thej  are  good 
or  bad;  they  are  men,  poor  devils  like  you  and  me. 
When  they  need  help,  you  must  give  it  and  not  stop 
to  consider.  Like  many  another,  my  master  is  cor- 
rupted by  wealth.  He  cannot  help  himself:  he  needs 
a  score  of  people  to  serve  him.  Now,  I  have  three 
times  as  much  strength  as  I  need,  and  I  don't  know 
what  use  to  make  of  it.  Occasionally,  I  feel  I  would 
like  to  break  something  just  to  ease  my  feelings.  If 
that  idiot  needs  my  power,  I  am  willing  to  sell  it  to 
him.  We  are  then  quits.  I  do  him  good,  and  myself, 
too. 

Maeat.  You  also  sell  him  your  free  soul,  your  con- 
science. 

HuLiN.  Who  says  anything  about  that.?  I  defy 
any  one  to  take  that  from  me. 

Mabat.  And  yet  you  submit.  You  don't  tell  all 
you  think. 

HuLiN.  What  need  I  say?  I  know  what  I  think. 
It's  all  very  well  for  those  who  don't  know  to  cry  it 
aloud  from  the  house-tops!  I  don't  think  for  others; 
I  think  for  myself. 

Marat.  Nothing  that  is  in  you  belongs  to  you. 
You  do  not  belong  to  yourself;  you  are  a  part  of 
every  one.  You  owe  your  strength  to  others,  your 
will-power,  your  intelligence — no  matter  how  little  you 
possess. 


42  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HuLiN.  Will-power  and  intelligence  are  not  cur- 
rency that  one  may  give.  Work  done  for  others  is 
work  ill  done.  I  have  made  myself  free.  Let  the 
others  do  likewise ! 

Marat.  There,  in  those  words,  I  recognize  my  odi- 
ous compatriots !  Simply  because  Nature  has  given 
them  six  feet  of  body  and  the  muscles  of  an  animal, 
they  think  they  have  a  right  to  despise  those  who  are 
weak  and  ill.  And  when  after  they  have  reaped  their 
harvests  and  worked  in  their  fields,  they  sit  down  satis- 
fied before  their  own  doors,  smoking  a  vile  pipe  the 
nasty  smoke  of  which  calms  their  tiny  consciences,  they 
think  they  have  done  their  duty,  and  tell  their  less 
fortunate  brothers  who  ask  for  help  to  "  go  and  do 
likewise." 

HuLiN  [quietly].  How  well  you  know  me!  You 
have  described  me  perfectly.     [He  smiles  to  himself.] 

HocHE  [who  comes  in.  He  wears  the  uniform  of  a 
corporal  of  the  French  Guards.  He  carries  some 
clothes  over  his  arm.  To  Marat]  .  Don't  believe  him, 
citizen.  He  libels  himself.  He  never  refuses  the  out- 
stretched hand  of  misfortune.  Only  last  week,  he  took 
command  of  us  and  freed  the  French  Guards  who  were 
imprisoned  in  the  Abbey  by  the  aristocrats. 

HuLiN  [without  turning  his  head,  extends  his  hand 
over  his  shoulder].  Ah,  it's  you,  Hoche?  Who  has 
asked  for  your  advice?  You're  talking  nonsense!  I 
was  telling  you  not  long  ago  that  sometimes  I  feel  I 
have  too  much  strength,  and  then  I  knock  in  a  door, 
or  demolish  a  wall.  And,  of  course,  when  I  see  a 
drowning  man,  I  offer  him  a  helping  hand.     I  don't 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  48 

reason  about  those  things.  But  I  don't  lie  in  wait 
for  people  who  are  going  to  drown,  nor  do  I  throw 
them  into  the  water — like  these  people  who  start  revo- 
lutions— just  in  order  to  fish  them  out  afterward. 

Marat.  You  are  ashamed  of  the  good  you  do.  I 
hate  these  people  who  brag  of  their  vices.  [^He  turns 
his  back.]     What  are  you  carrying  there? 

HocHE.  Some  waistcoats  that  I  embroidered;  I'm 
trying  to  sell  them. 

Marat.  Pretty  work  for  a  soldier!  Do  you  mend 
clothes  ? 

HocHE.     It's  as  good  a  trade  as  tearing  them. 

Marat.  Don't  you  blush  to  steal  women's  business? 
So  that  is  what  you  are  doing?  You  think  of  your 
business,  you  hoard  your  gold,  when  Paris  is  about  to 
swim  in  blood! 

HocHE  [quietly,  and  with  a  touch  of  disdain].  Oh, 
we  have  time  enough.     Everything  in  due  time. 

Marat.  Your  heart  is  cold,  your  pulse  is  slow. 
You  are  no  patriot.  [To  Hulin.]  And  as  for  you, 
you  are  worse  than  if  you  really  did  what  you  brag 
about !  You  had  a  decent  healthy  character,  which 
you  are  wilfully  perverting. — Oh,  Liberty,  these  are 
your  defenders.  Indifferent  to  the  dangers  that  beset 
you,  they  will  do  nothing  to  combat  them !  I  at  least 
will  not  abandon  you,  I  alone.  I  shall  watch  over  the 
people.  I  will  save  them  in  spite  of  themselves.  [He 
goes  out.] 

Hulin  [watching  him  go,  and  laughing].  Our  gay 
associate!  He  sees  everything  through  pink  specta- 
cles.    He's  a  doctor  from  my  country.     One  feels  im* 


44  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

mediately  that  he  is  used  to  commanding  people.  He 
hasn't  enough  to  do  in  his  own  business,  he  must  needs 
treat  all  humanity. 

HocHE  [following  Marat  mth  his  eyes,  and  with  a 
mixture  of  pity  and  interest].  An  honest  man.  The 
woes  of  humanity  weigh  heavy  on  his  shoulders;  they 
unhinge  his  reason  and  his  judgment.  He  is  sick  with 
virtue. 

HuLiN.     Where  did  you  know  him.'* 

HocHE.     I've  read  his  books. 

HuLiN.  You  must  have  time  to  waste.  Where  did 
you  get  hold  of  them.'' 

HocHE.  I  bought  them  with  the  money  I  received 
from  these  waistcoats — for  which  he  reproached  me. 

HuuN  [looking  at  him].  Let  me  see.  What's  the 
matter.'*     Have  you  been  fighting  again? 

HocHE.     Yes. 

HuLiN.     Barbarian !     Where  did  you  get  that  ? 

HocHE.  In  the  Place  Louis  XV.  I  was  walking 
past.  The  arrogance  of  those  Germans,  camping  here 
in  our  own  Paris,  got  on  my  nerves.  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  them.  They  fell  upon  me  in  a  body,  but 
the  people  there  got  me  away  from  them.  I  made  a 
mess  of  one  or  two,  however. 

HuLiN.     Indeed!     That  will  cost  you  dear. 

HocHE.  Bah!  Do  me  a  favor,  Hulin.  Read  this 
letter  for  me. 

Hulin.     To  whom  is  it  addressed? 

HocHE.     To  the  King. 

Hulin.     Are  you  writing  to  the  King? 

HocHE.     Why  shouldn't  I?     He  is  a  son  of  Adam, 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  45 

like  me.  If  I  can  give  him  some  good  advice,  why 
shouldn't  I?     And  why  shouldn't  he  follow  it? 

HuLiN  [jokingly].  And  what  have  you  to  say  to 
the  King? 

Hoc  HE.  I  tell  him  to  send  his  troops  away  from 
Paris,  and  to  come  himself  to  the  city  and  start  the 
revolution.  [Hulin  laughs  uproariously.  Hoche 
smiles.]  Your  reasons  are  excellent.  Thank  you  for 
your  advice,  but  that  is  not  what  I  want. 

Hulin.     What,  then? 

HocHE  [embarrassed].  The — the  style,  you  see. 
And  the  spelling — I'm  not  quite  sure. 

Hulin.     Do  you  imagine  he  is  going  to  read  it? 

Hoche.     That  makes  no  difference. 

Hulin.     I'll  see  to  it,  then. 

Hoche.  How  fortunate  you  are  to  have  an  educa- 
tion! Work  as  I  will  now,  I  can  never  make  up  for 
lost  time. 

Hulin.  Are  you  really  so  simple  as  to  think  this 
letter  will  be  read? 

Hoche  [good-humoredly] .  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
don't  think  it  will.  And  yet  it  would  be  very  easy  for 
all  those  fellows  who  run  the  government  of  Europe, 
to  apply  just  a  little  common  sense,  ordinary  every- 
day sense!  So  much  the  worse  for  them!  If  they 
don't,  it  will  be  done  without  them ! 

Hulin.  Instead  of  trying  to  reform  the  world, 
you'd  do  much  better  to  get  yourself  out  of  the  fix 
you're  in  now.  You  are  going  to  be  reported — per- 
haps you  have  been  already.  Do  you  know  what  will 
be  waiting  for  you  when  you  return  to  the  barracks  ? 


46  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HocHE.  Yes,  but  do  you  know  what  is  waiting  for 
the  barracks  when  I  return  to  them? 

HuLiN.     What? 

HocHE.     You'll  see. 

HuLiN.  Now  what  are  you  plotting?  Don't  get 
excited.  Don't  you  think  there's  enough  disorder  as 
it  is? 

HocHE.  When  order  is  injustice,  disorder  is  the 
beginning  of  justice. 

HuLiN.  Justice!  Justice  consists  in  not  demand- 
ing of  things  what  they  cannot  give.  You  can't  make 
over  the  world;  you  must  accept  it  as  it  is.  Why 
demand  the  impossible? 

HocHE.  Poor  Hulin,  do  you  know  everything  that 
is  impossible? 

Hulin.  What  do  you  mean?  Let  the  people  do 
merely  what  they  can  do,  and  you  will  see  whether  or 
not  the  world  can  be  made  over ! 

Hulin  [his  hand  on  Hoche's  shoulder].  Ah,  you 
are  ambitious.     You  dream  of  dominating  the  people ! 

HocHE.  You  ignorant  colossus !  Fine  ambition, 
that!  Do  you  think  I  have  the  spirit  of  a  corporal? 
[He  looks  at  his  uniform.] 

Hulin.  Disgusted,  eh?  What's  the  matter  with 
you?  You  seem  very  happy  today.  Are  they  going 
to  make  you  a  sergeant? 

HocHE  [shrugging  his  shoulders].  JIappiness  is 
in  the  air. 

Hulin.  You're  not  hard  to  please.  There  is 
famine.  Imminent  massacre.  Your  people  are  about 
t6  be  destroyed.     And  you,  what  are  you  going  to  do? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  47 

You  will  have  to  march  against  those  you  love,  or  else 
be  killed  with  your  friends. 

HocHE  [smiling].     Very  well,  then. 

HuLiN.  You  think  it  very  well.?  The  thunderbolt 
is  above  you;  everything  is  ready  to  crumble.  .  .  . 
Roll,  thunder !     Truth,  burn  the  night ! 

HuLiN.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  storm.  Everything 
I  have  told  you,  comrade,  doesn't  make  me  any  more 
afraid.  I  am  not  afraid  for  my  own  skin.  But  I 
don't  see  even  the  first  rain-drop.  If  your  eyes  are 
better  than  mine,  show  me!  And  wherever  there  is  a 
good  blow  needed,  be  assured  I  shall  be  ready.  Lead 
me,  show  me  the  road ;  what  must  I  do? 

HocHE.  There  is  no  settled  plan.  Watch  and 
see  what  happens.  When  the  storm  comes,  hold  fast 
and  run  with  it.  Meantime,  let  us  proceed  as  usual — 
and  sell  our  waistcoats.  [The  Crowd  again  inundates 
the  stage.  Cries  and  laughter  are  heard.  An  Urchin 
of  four  or  five  is  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  a  huge 
Porter.  La  Contat,  Desmoulins,  and  the  rest  follow 
them,  laughing.] 

The  UacHiN  [screaming].  Down  with  the  aristos, 
the  aristocracks,  the  aristaustrians ! 

HuLiN.  Now  what  are  they  playing  at?  Ah,  their 
favorite  amusement:  abusing  the  aristocrats. 

The  Porter.  Attention,  Voice  of  the  People! 
What  shall  we  condemn  them  to?  Hey,  there.  Mon- 
sieur, don't  you  hear  me,  Leonidas?  What'U  we  do  to 
Artois  ? 

The  Urchin.     The  pillory! 

The  Porter.     And  Polignac? 


48  THiE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Ukchin.     A  flogging! 

The  Portek.     And  Conde? 

The  Uechin.     The  gallows! 

The  Porter.     And  the  Queen? 

The  Urchin.  To  the — !  [The  Crowd  hursts 
into  loud  laughter,  cheering  the  Urchin,  who  cries 
aloud,  inflated  by  his  success.  The  Porter  continues 
on  his  way  with  the  hoy.^ 

La  Contat.  The  dear  child!  He  makes  me  die 
laughing. 

Desmoulins.  Let's  follow  them.  Bravo,  terror  of 
the  aristos ! — Messieurs,  young  Leonidas  has  forgotten 
one  of  our  friends.  Monsieur  de  Vintimille,  Marquis  de 
Castelnau. 

HuLiN  [to  Hoche].  Listen,  he's  speaking  of  my 
master. 

Desmoulins.  We  surely  owe  him  something.  The 
Marshal  has  just  appointed  him  guard  over  the  Bas- 
tille, with  M.  de  Launey,  and  he  has  promfsed  that 
within  two  days,  we  shall  go  and  ask  pardon  of  him, 
barefooted  and  with  ropes  round  our  necks.  I  propose 
that  one  of  us  make  a  present  of  his  rope  to  that  friend 
of  the  people. 

The  Crowd.  Burn  him!  He  lives  near!  Burn 
his  house — his  furniture — his  wife — his  children! 

Vintimille  [appearing  in  the  midst  of  the  Crowd, 
cold  and  ironic^.     Messieurs — 

La  Contat.     God  save  us ! 

HuLiN.     Hoche!     [He  takes  hold  of  Hoche's  arm,] 

Hoche.     What's  the  matter? 

Hulin.     It's  he! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  49 

HocHE.     Who? 

HuLiN.     Vintimille. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Messieurs,  M.  de  Vintimille's  up- 
holsterer asks  permission  to  speak. 

The  Crowd.     Hear  the  upholsterer ! 

Vintimille.  Messieurs,  you  are  quite  right  in  wish- 
ing to  burn  that  blackguard  aristocrat,  who  makes 
game  of  you,  despises  you,  and  who  goes  about  saying 
that  dogs  ought  to  be  whipped  when  they  show  their 
teeth.  Burn,  Messieurs,  by  all  means  burn,  but  I  warn 
you,  take  care  that  the  flame  of  your  just  fury  does 
not  scorch  you,  and  demolish  what  is  yours  along  with 
what  is  his.  Let  me  ask  you  first  of  all.  Messieurs, 
whether  it  is  right  to  ruin  M.  de  Vintimille  and  those 
who  ruin  him — his  creditors,  that  is?  At  least 
allow  me  to  beg  you  to  spare  the  furniture,  which 
belongs  to  me,  and  for  which  the  scoundrel  has  not  paid 
a  sou. 

Crowd.     Take  back  your  furniture! 

Vintimille.  I  am  encouraged.  Messieurs,  by  the 
success  of  my  request,  to  make  another,  this  time  on 
behalf  of  the  architect  of  the  house.  He  has  been  no 
more  successful  than  I  in  extracting  ecus  from  the 
pocket  of  M.  de  Vintimille;  and  he  asks  you  to  con- 
sider what  harm  you  would  do  him  in  destroying  his 
only  security? 

Crowd.     Save  the  house! 

Vintimille.  And  as  for  his  wife.  Messieurs — ^why 
burn  what  belongs  to  you?  His  wife  is  of  the  people. 
The  Court,  the  city,  the  clergy,  the  middle-classes, 
have   often    appreciated   her    splendid   qualities.     She 


50  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

possesses  a  liberal  mind,  and  she  recognizes  no  privi- 
leges: the  three  orders  are  equal  in  her  eyes.  In  her 
person  she  realizes  the  perfect  union  of  the  nation. 
Let  us  do  honor  to  so  rare  a  virtue.  Messieurs,  let 
us  show  mercy  for  Madame. 

Desmoulins.     Mercy  for  Notre  Dame ! 

The  Crowd  [laughing].  Yes,  yes,  mercy  for  Ma- 
dame! 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Really,  Messieurs,  I  am  taking  advan^ 
tage— 

The  Ceowd.     No,  no ! 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Finally,  Messieurs,  if  you  burned  M. 
de  Vintimille's  children,  would  you  not  tremble  to  vie 
with  our  tragediennes.'' 

The  CaowD  [laughing].  Long  live  the  children! 
Ha,  ha! 

ViNTiMiLLE  [m  a  changed  tone].  As  for  him,  burn 
him,  Messieurs,  burn  him,  burn  him.  And,  let  me  tell 
you,  if  you  don't  burn  him,  he  will  burn  you!  [He 
steps  down  from  the  chair,  and  disappears  into  the 
Crowd,  who  laugh  and  shout,  and  applaud  him.] 

La  Contat  [going  quickly  to  Vintimille].  Run 
quickly!     They  might  recognize  you! 

Vintimille.  Hello,  Contat,  were  you  there?  What 
are  you  doing  in  such  vile  company? 

La  Contat.  Don't  make  fun  of  the  dogs  until  you 
are  well  out  of  the  village. 

Vintimille.  Oh,  not  every  barking  dog  bites. 
Come ! 

La  Contat.     Later, 

Vintimille.     I  shall  meet  you  at  the  Bastille. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  51 

La  Contat.  Wery  well:  at  the  Bastille.  [Vinti- 
MiLLE  goes  out.] 

HocHE.     The  rascal!     What  effrontery! 

HuiiiN.     A  mixture  of  courage  and  nasty  vileness. 

HocHE.     Often  to  be  observed  in  our  "  betters." 

HuLiN.  This  one  made  his  fortune  by  marrying  one 
of  the  late  king's  mistresses;  and  the  same  man  wins 
honor  at  Crefeld  and  Rosbach. 

An  Old  Woman  Shopkeeper.  What  do  you  mean 
with  your  talk  all  the  time  of  burning  and  hanging  and 
stirring  things  up?  What'll  it  bring  you?  I  know 
well  enough  you'll  not  do  a  blessed  thing  about  it. 
Then  why  talk  so  much?  Will  it  make  your  soup 
taste  better  if  you  cook  a  few  aristocrats?  They'll  run 
off  with  all  their  money  and  we'll  be  more  miserable 
than  ever.  You  see,  you've  got  to  take  things  as  they 
come,  and  not  believe  those  liars  that  tell  you  you  can 
change  things  by  shouting.  D'ye  know  what  I  think? 
We're  wasting  our  time  here.  Nothing's  going  to 
happen^  nothing  can  happen.  You're  threatened  with 
famine,  war — the  whole  Apocalypse.  I  tell  you,  it's 
all  invented  by  the  newspapers  that  haven't  anything 
else  to  print,  and  by  spies  who  want  to  stir  things  up. 
There's  just  a  misunderstanding  with  the  king,  but 
it'll  be  all  right  if  we  go  about  our  business.  We  have 
a  good  king :  he's  promised  to  keep  our  good  M.  Necker, 
who's  going  to  give  us  a  Constitution.  Why  don't  you 
believe  it?  Isn't  that  good  common  sense?  Why  isn't 
it,  eh?  I  believe  what  they  say,  and  I  was  just  as 
foolish  as  you:  I  wasted  four  hours  here.  I'm  going 
now  and  sell  my  turnips. 


52  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Crowd  [approvingli/].  She's  right. — You're 
all  right,  mother.     Let's  go  home. 

HuLiN.     What  have  you  to  say  to  that? 

HocHE  [with  a  smile].  She  reminds  me  of  my  old 
aunt.  She  talked  about  patience  the  moment  she  set 
to  beating  me. 

HuLiN.     I  think  she  talked  good  common  sense. 

HocHE.  I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  be  able  to 
believe  her;  and  I  find  it  so  natural  that  reason  should 
prevail  in  her  mind  that  if  I  listened  to  my  own  counsel, 
I  should  even  allow  my  enemies  to  make  reason  tri- 
umph ;  but,  you  see,  experience  has  too  often  disabused 
me.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  open  my  eyes ;  I  see  Gonchon 
and  his  band  closing  shop.  They  do  nothing  without 
a  motive,  mind  you,  and  I  am  very  much  afraid  that 
this  sudden  quiet  is  only  the  lull  before  the  storm.  At 
base,  no  one  believes  that  this  calm  is  natural;  they 
all  stayed,  even  the  old  lady.  They  try  to  delude 
themselves,  but  they  can't.  They  have  all  caught  the 
fever.  Listen  to  the  voice  of  that  crowd !  They  don't 
shout,  but  hear  the  murmurs !  Like  the  rustling  of 
leaves.  The  breeze  before  the  rain.  [He  seizes 
Hulin's  hand.]  See!  Look!  Hulin — here,  here — 
[A  great  confused  murmur  comes  from  the  Crowd  at 
the  back  of  the  Garden,  and  then  hursts  forth  like  a 
clap  of  thunder.] 

A  Man  [out  of  breath,  his  hat  gone,  his  clothing  in 
disorder,  runs  in,  and  cries  out  in  terror.]  Necker  is 
exiled ! 

The  Crowd  [excitedly,  hurrying  to  the  il/an]. 
What !     What !     Necker !— It's  a  lie ! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  58 

The  Man  [shouting],  Necker  is  banished!  He's 
gone,  gone! 

The  Ceowd  [howling].  Kill  him!  He's  a  spy  from 
Versailles !     Kill  him ! 

The  Man  [terror-stricken,  as  he  attempts  to  free 
himself.]  What  are  you  doing?  You  don't  under- 
stand!    I  say  that  Necker — 

The  Crowd.  To  the  fountain!  The  informer! 
Drown  him ! 

The  Man  [howling].     Me? 

HocHE.     Let's  save  him,  Hulin ! 

HuLiN.  You'd  have  to  strike  down  twenty  to  save 
one.  [They  try  m  vain  to  break  through  the  Crowd, 
which  bears  off  the  unfortunate  Man.  Robespierre 
then  rises  from  the  Crowd  and  stands  on  a  table.  He 
makes  a  gesture  indicating  that  he  wants  silence.] 

HocHE.  Who  is  that  thin  little  fellow  who's  trying 
to  talk? 

Desmoulins.  That  is  Robespierre,  Deputy  from 
Arras. 

HocHE.     Shout,  Hulin,  and  make  them  keep  still ! 

Hulin.  Listen!  Listen  to  Citizen  Robespierre! 
[At  first  Robespierre  trembles.  He  is  not  heard  amid 
the  confusion.     Some  cry,  "  Louder!  "] 

Desmoulins.     Speak,  Robespierre. 

Hulin.  Don't  be  afraid.  [Robespierre  looks  at 
him  with  a  timid  and  disdainful  smile.] 

Desmoulins.     He's  not  used  to  speaking. 

Hoche.     Silence,  comrades ! 

Robespierre  [composing  himself].  Citizens,  I  am 
Deputy  to  the  Third  Estate.     I  have  come  from  Ver- 


54  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

sailles.  That  man  spoke  the  truth:  Necker  has  been 
exiled.  The  power  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  nation's 
enemies.  De  Broglie,  Breteuil,  Foulon :  Carnage, 
Rapine,  and  Famine,  ate  now  the  ministers.  This 
means  war.     I  have  cast  my  lot  with  you. 

The  Crowd  [terrified].     We're  lost! 

Desmoulins.     What  shall  we  do.? 

Robespierre.     Let  us  know  how  to  die. 

HocHB  [with  a  shrug] .     Lawyer! 

HuiiiN.     Speak  to  them,  Citizen  Deputy. 

Robespierre.  What  is  the  use  of  talk?  Let  each 
one  consult  his  own  conscience. 

HocHE.  They  are  mad  with  terror.  If  they're  not 
made  to  do  something,  they  are  lost.  [Robespierre 
takes  manuscripts  and  printers^  proofs  from  his 
pocket.] 

HuLiN.  What's  he  going  to  read.?  Don't  read! 
One  really  human  word  is  worth  a  thousand  from  those 
papers ! 

Robespierre  [opens  out  his  papers,  and  reads  in  a 
quietf  but  cutting  tone] .      "  Declaration  of  Rights." 

HocHE.     Listen ! 

Robespierre.  "  Declaration  of  Rights,  proposed 
to  the  National  Assembly,  yesterday,  Saturday  July 
11:  The  National  Assembly  proclaims  abroad  to  the 
Universe  and  under  the  eye  of  the  Supreme  Being,  the 
following  rights  of  man  and  citizen: 

Nature  has  made  men  free  and  equal — "  [A  thun- 
der of  applause,  which  drowns  out  the  rest  of  the  sen- 
tence.] 

"  Every  man  is  born  with  inalienable  and  indefeasible 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  55 

rights :  liberty  of  thought,  the  care  of  his  honor  and 
his  life,  the  complete  freedom  of  his  person,  the  pursuit 
of  happiness,  and  resistance  to  oppression."  [The 
applause  is  redoubled.] 

HocHE  [^drawing  his  saber"] .  Resistance  to  oppres- 
sion! [Others  follow  his  example,  and  in  a  moment 
the  Crowd  bristle  with  arms.] 

RoBESPiERSE.  **  Oppression  exists  against  the  social 
order,  when  even  a  single  member  of  it  is  oppressed. 
There  exists  oppression  against  each  and  every  member 
of  the  social  order,  when  the  whole  is  oppressed." 

GoNCHON.  Are  they  going  on  with  this?  They 
must  be  got  out  of  the  way.  If  the  army  comes,  they 
ought  to  go  somewhere  else  and  get  killed !  [He  speaks 
to  his  associates.] 

Robespierre.  "  The  Nation  is  sovereign."  [A 
shout  is  heard.  The  Crowd  are  terrified  and  listen  in 
fear  and  trembling.] 

HocHE.     Hulin!     The  storm  at  last! 

A  Voice  [terrified].  They're  coming!  They're 
coming!     The  cavalry! 

One  of  Gonchon's  Men  [in  a  strident  voice].  Run 
for  your  lives!     [Great  confusion  and  shouting.] 

Hulin  [leaping  upon  the  man  who  just  shouted,  and 
striking  him  on  the  head].  Good  God!  [To  Robes- 
pierre.] Continue!  [Robespierre  tries  to  go  on,  but 
his  voice  fails  him.  Hoche  jumps  up  on  the  table 
beside  Robespierre,  and  reads  with  enthusiasm,  which 
stirs  the  Crowd.] 

HocHE.  *'  The  Nation  is  sovereign,  and  the  govern- 
ment is  its  work. — When  the  government  violates  the 


56  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

rights  of  the  nation,  insurrection  in  that  nation  becomes 
the  most  sacred  of  duties. — Those  who  make  war  upon 
a  people  in  order  to  arrest  the  progress  of  its  liberty, 
ought  to  be  attacked  by  all,  not  as  ordinary  enemies, 
but  as  rebel  slaves  who  have  lifted  a  hand  against  the 
Sovereign  of  the  World,  which  is  Mankind."  [Amid 
the  wild  acclamations i  Desmoulins,  hair  waving  in  the 
wind  and  eyes  aflame,  jumps  up  on  the  table  from 
which  HocHE  has  just  stepped  down.^ 

Desmoulins.  Liberty,  liberty!  It  is  now  flying 
just  above  our  heads.  It  bears  me  along  with  its 
sacred  whirlwind.  On  to  victory !  Let  us  march  with 
the  wind  of  her  wings  !  The  day  of  bondage  has  passed 
— passed.  Stand  up,  and  let  us  send  back  the  thunder- 
bolt against  the  scoundrels  who  have  the  army! 
Against  the  King!  [The  Crowd  shouts:  "  Against  the 
King!  "]  Look  at  me,  spies !  You  are  hidden  here, 
I  know.  It  is  I,  Camille  Desmoulins,  who  incite  Paris 
to  revolt!  I  fear  nothing:  no  matter  what  happens, 
they  will  never  catch  me  alive.  [He  displays  a  pistol 
which  he  has  taken  from  his  pocket.]  The  only  catas- 
trophe I  fear  is  to  see  France  enslaved !  But  we  shan't 
see  that !  It  will  be  free  with  us,  or  die  with  us.  Yes, 
like  Virginius  we  will  stab  her  with  our  own  hands, 
rather  than  allow  her  to  be  violated  by  tyrants. 
Brothers,  we  will  be  free!  We  are  already  free! 
Against  the  Bastilles  of  stone  we  will  offer  our  breasts, 
the  unconquerable  fortresses  of  Liberty !  Look !  The 
very  heavens  open,  the  gods  are  on  our  side.  The  sun 
tears  open  the  clouds.  See,  the  leaves  on  the  trees 
tremble  for  joy!     Oh,  leaves  that  quiver  with  the  life- 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  57 

blood  of  a  people  that  is  now  awaking  to  life,  be  our 
rallying  emblem,  our  pledge  of  victory;  you  are  the 
color  of  hope,  of  the  sea,  of  young  and  free  Nature! 
[He  breaks  off  a  small  branch  from  a  chestnut  tree.] 
In  hoc  signo  vinces.     Liberty!     Liberty! 

The  People.  Liberty!  [They  crowd  about  Des- 
MOULINS,  embracing  and  hissing  him.] 

La  Contat  [putting  leaves  in  her  hair] .  Oh,  young 
Liberty!  Bloom  in  my  hair  and  flourish  in  my  heart! 
[She  throws  handfuls  of  leaves  to  the  people.] 
Friends,  deck  yourselves  with  the  cockades  of  summer ! 
[The  Crowd  strip  the  trees  of  their  leaves.] 

The  Old  Woman  Shopkeepee.  Against  the  King! 
He  was  right!  You  must  go  to  the  King! — On  to 
Versailles,  my  children ! 

HuLiN  [pointing  to  the  Old  Woman  and  La 
Contat].     Now  they  are  more  excited  than  the  rest! 

HocHE.     You'll  have  a  hard  time  stopping  them ! 

The  People.  To  the  Champ  de  Mars !  Before  the 
people  of  Versailles !  We'll  show  them ! — Scoun- 
drels! They  thought  they  could  down  the  people  of 
Paris ! 

The  Old  Woman.  Pll  have  their  hides!  I'll  show 
those  nasty  Germans  who's  master ! 

Desmoulins.  They  have  banished  our  Necker. 
Now  we  banish  them!  We  want  Necker  to  remain 
We  will  show  the  world  what  we  want. 

The  People.  Let's  parade  in  honor  of  Necker! — 
Here's  his  portrait,  in  Curtius'  shop,  among  the  wax 
figures.  Let's  carry  it  in  triumph ! — The  shop's 
closed! — Break  it  in! 


58  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

GoNCHON  [to  his  followers].  Let's  take  advantage 
of  the  occasion ! 

A  Follower  of  Gonchon.  Monsieur  Gonchon! 
They're  stealing  everything! 

Gonchon.     Never  mind !     You  do  the  same ! 

The  Shopkeeper.  But  they're  coming  into  my 
shop ! 

Gonchon.  Can't  keep  them  out.  \_He  enters  the 
shop  and  shouts  with  the  rest  of  the  Crowd.  Those  out- 
side run  here  and  there.  In  a  moment,  swords,  sticlcs, 
pistols,  and  hatchets  are  seen  flourishing  in  the  air.^ 

The  People.  Easy,  now !  No  disorder,  comrades ! 
— Hey,  there,  run  away  to  school,  lad!  This  is  no 
child's  play !  This  must  be  serious !  We  must  inspire 
the  tyrants  with  the  sacred  terror  of  the  nation.  [A 
bust  of  Necker  is  carried  out  of  the  shop,  hugged  close 
to  the  breast  of  the  athletic  Porter.  The  Crowd  gather 
around  him.]  Off  with  your  hats!  Here  is  our  de- 
fender, our  father!  Cover  him  with  crepe!  The 
Patrie  is  in  mourning!  [Gonchon  and  his  followers 
come  forth  from  the  shop  with  the  bust  of  the  Duo 
d* Orleans.  They  assume  the  same  attitudes  of  solemn 
dignity  as  the  others.  The  People  pay  no  attention  to 
them.] 

HuLiN.     What's  that.? 

HocHE.  Our  friend  Gonchon's  patron,  the  Citizen 
d'Orl^ans. 

HuLiN.  I'm  going  to  break  in  his  head,  and  those 
of  his  bearers. 

Hoche  [smiling].  No,  no,  let  them  be.  Let  them 
compromise  themselves. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  59 

HuLiN.     Don't  you  know  him? 

HocHE.  An  Orleans?  He  who  knows  one,  knows 
them  all.  He's  a  vicious  vermin,  who  has  caught  hold 
of  the  robes  of  Liberty,  and  tries  to  harm  her.  He 
needs  a  slap,  and  he  will  get  it.     Let  him  alone. 

HuLiN.     But  what  if  he  take  away  our  liberty? 

HocHE.  That  misshapen  brat?  He'd  better  take 
care  that  she  doesn't  take  away  his  head !  [Gonchon 
and  his  followers  cover  d'Orleans*  head  with  crepe.  A 
procession  then  forms,  in  absurdly  solemn  order.  Si- 
lence. All  at  once,  the  Old  Woman  Shopkeepee 
comes  in  heating  a  drum.  A  formidable  shout 
arises.^ 

The  People.  Forward!  [The  procession  starts. 
First  comes  the  drummer,  followed  by  Necker's  bust, 
which  the  Porter  carries  on  his  head.  He  is  sur- 
rounded by  men  armed  with  sticks  and  hatchets — 
young  men,  elegantly  attired  in  silks,  wearing  jewels 
and  watches,  and  armed  with  cudgels  and  swords; 
French  Guards  with  drawn  sabers;  women,  first  among 
whom  is  La  Contat,  clinging  to  Desmoulins'  arm. 
Then  comes  Gonchon,  who  carries  Orleans*  bust,  fol- 
lowed by  the  shopkeepers  of  the  Palais-Royal.  Then 
the  rest  of  the  Crowd.  A  great  silence,  broken  now 
and  then  by  the  low  hum  of  the  vast  crowd.  In  the 
distance,  shouting  is  heard;  it  grows  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  finally  passes  through  the  whole  line  like  a  tremor 
of  passion.     Then  silence  for  a  moment.] 

HocHE  [to  HuLiN,  pointing  at  the  People].  Well, 
Hulin,  are  you  convinced  now? 

HuLiN.     Absurd.     That    disorderly    mob!     Attack 


60  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

an  army?  They're  all  going  to  be  massacred.  There's 
no  sense  to  it.      [He  follows  the  procession.] 

HocHE.     Where  are  you  going? 

HuLiN.     With  them,  of  course. 

HocHE.  Old  comrade,  your  instinct  is  better  than 
your  head. 

HuLiN.  You  see  that,  do  you?  Do  you  know  where 
those  blind  people  are  going? 

HocHE.  Don't  bother  about  understanding.  They 
know:  they  see  for  you. 

HuLiN.     Who  ? 

HocHE.  The  blind.  \_The  lugubrious  roll  of  the 
drums  is  heard  in  the  distance.  The  People  march  out 
slowly.    SUence.] 


ACT  n 

[Monday  night,  July  13-14.     It  is  two  or  three  o*clock 
in  the  morning. 

The  scene  is  a  street  in  Paris,  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Antoine.  At  the  hack,  towering  above  the 
house-tops,  stands  the  great  bulk  of  the  Bastille, 
the  turrets  of  which,  engulfed  in  the  black  night, 
soar  up  into  the  sky,  and  seem  to  strain  higher 
and  higher  as  dawn  approaches.  To  the  right, 
at  the  corner  of  a  street,  is  Lucile's  house.  A 
convolvulus  twines  itself  about  the  balcony  sup- 
port, and  clambers  along  the  wall.  The  street  is 
lighted  by  candles,  placed  en  the  window-sills. 
Sounds  from  blacksmith  shops — hammers  pound- 
ing on  forges,  are  heard,  and  from  tijne  to  time 
the  tocsin  of  a  church,  or  occasionally  a  far-off 
musket-shot.  Workingmen  are  constructing  a 
barricade  of  wood  and  stone  at  the  street  corner, 
under  Lucile's  window.^ 

A  Mason.     Only  a  few  more  stones  now. 

A  WoRKiNGMAN  \with  his  bed  on  his  back^.     Here, 
use  this.     It's  my  bed. 

The  Mason.     Are  you  sleeping  here? 

The  Woekingman.     I  will  before  long,  with  a  bullet 
in  me. 

The  Mason.     You  have  a  sense  of  humor. 

ffil 


6i  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Wokkingman.  If  the  brigands  pass  here, 
we  won't  need  anything.  Our  beds  are  made  else- 
where. 

A  Caepentee.     Help  me  stretch  this  cord. 

An  Appeentice.     What  for? 

The  Caepentee.     To  trip  the  horses. 

A  Peintee.     Hey,  Camuset.'' 

Anothee.     Yes  ? 

The  Peintee.     Listen. 

The  Othee.     What? 

The  Peintee.     Don't  you  hear? 

The  Othee.  I  hear  anvils.  They're  making  pikes 
in  all  the  blacksmith  shops. 

The  Peintee.  No,  not  that.  There —  [He 
points  to  the  ground.] 

The  Othee.     There? 

The  Peintee.  Yes,  under  the  ground.  [He  lies 
down,  with  his  ear  to  the  ground.] 

The  Othee.     You're  dreaming! 

The  Woekingman  [lying  down].  Sounds  like 
mining. 

The  Othee.  Good  Lord,  they're  going  to  blow  us 
up! 

The  Caepentee  [incredulously].     Nonsense! 

The  Woekingman  [still  on  the  ground].  They've 
hidden  millions  of  pounds  of  powder  there. 

The  Othee  Woekingman.  That's  why  we  can't 
find  any. 

The  Caepentee.  Do  you  think  an  army  can  go 
about  underground  like  rats  ? 

The  Woekingman  [still  on  the  ground].     They've 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  63 

got  underground  passages  leading  from  the  Bastille  to 
Vincennes. 

The  Carpentee.     Fairy  tales! 

The  Othee  Woekingman  [rising],  I'll  have  a  look 
in  the  cellar,  anyway.  Are  you  coming  with  me, 
Camuset?     [They  both  go  into  a  house.] 

The  Caepentee  [laughing].  In  the  cellar?  Ha, 
ha !  They're  looking  for  a  pretext  to  wet  their  whis- 
tles!    Now,  let's  finish  our  work. 

The  Mason  [looking  behind  him  as  he  works]. 
Good  God ! 

The  Caepentee.     What's  wrong? 

The  Mason  [looking  toward  the  Bastille] .  That — 
that !  Every  time  I  look  at  that  thing,  it  weighs  down 
on  my  back — that  Bastille!     It  catches  in  my  throat. 

The  Caepentee.  One  looks  under  ground,  and  the 
other  in  the  air.  Don't  look  around ;  go  on  with  your 
work. 

The  Mason.  Makes  no  difference:  I  feel  it.  Like 
as  if  some  one  was  standing  behind  me,  with  his  fist 
raised  ready  to  hit  me. — Good  God ! 

The  Voice  of  a  Bouegeois.  He  is  right:  we  are 
watched  by  cannon.  What  good  is  all  this  going  to 
do  us?  In  a  flash  it  could  knock  that  all  down  like 
a  house  of  cards. 

Caepentee.     Oh,  no. 

The  Mason  [pointing  toward  the  BastUle].  You 
damned  monster!     When  are  we  going  to  get  rid  of 

yoti! 

The  Caepentee.     Soon. 
Othees.     You  think  so? — How? 


64  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Carpenter.  I  don't  know,  but  it's  so.  Cour- 
age, now!  It's  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning. 
[They  set  to  work  again.] 

The  Apprentice.     Meantime,  we  can't  see  a  thing. 

The  Carpenter  [shouting  toward  the  houses]. 
Hey,  up  there!  You  women,  look  to  your  candles! 
We've  got  to  see  tonight! 

A  Woman  [at  a  window,  re-lighting  candles] .  How 
is  everything  getting  along? 

The  Carpenter.  Well,  more  than  one  will  leave 
his  carcass  here  before  they  get  past. 

The  Woman.     Are  they  coming  soon? 

The  Carpenter.  They  say  Grenelle  is  running 
with  blood.  You  can  hear  shots  from  the  Vaugirard 
section. 

The  Old  Bourgeois.  They  are  waiting  for  day- 
light before  entering. 

The  Mason.     What  time  is  it? 

The  Woman.  Three.  Listen,  the  cocks  are  crow- 
ing. 

The  Mason  [wiping  his  hrow  with  his  sleeve].  Got 
to  hurry !     Lord,  how  hot  it  is ! 

The  Carpenter.     So  much  the  better. 

The  Old  Bourgeois.     I  can't  do  another  stroke. 

The  Carpenter.  Rest  a  little.  Monsieur.  Nobody 
need  work  any  more  than  he  can. 

The  Old  Bourgeois  [bringing  a  paving-block].  I 
want  to  put  this  in  place,  though. 

The  Carpenter.  Take  it  easier.  If  you  can't 
gallop,  trot. 

The  Woman,     Have  you  got  your  muskets  yet? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  65 

The  Carpentek.  They  keep  putting  us  off  at  the 
HAtel  de  Ville.  A  few  hundred  bourgeois  there  take 
everything. 

The  Mason.  Never  mind.  We  have  knives,  and 
sticks  and  stones.     Anything  is  good  to  kill  with. 

The  Woman.  Fve  got  a  lot  of  tiles,  broken  bottles, 
and  glass  here  in  my  room.  Everything's  near  the 
window— dishes,  furniture,  everything.  If  they  pass 
this  way,  I'll  smash  them! 

Angthee  Woman    [at  her  window'].     My  kettle's 

been  on  the  fire  since  dinner.     The  water's  hot  enough 

to  boil  paving-stones.     Let  them  come !     I'll  boil  them ! 

A  Vagabond  [with  a  gun,  speaking  to  a  Bourgeois]. 

Give  me  some  money. 

The  Bourgeois.     No  begging  here. 
The  Vagabond.     I'm  not  asking  for  bread,  though 
I  am  starving.     But  I  have  a  musket,  and  not  a  sou 
to  buy  powder  with.    Give  me  some  money. 

Another  Vagabond  [a  little  drunk].  I've  got 
money,  much  as  you  like!  [He  pulls  a  handful  of 
money  from  his  pocket.] 

First  Vagabond.     Where  did  you  get  that? 
Second  Vagabond.     I  took  it  from  the  Lazarists 
when  they  pillaged  the  convent. 

First  Vagabond  [seizing  the  other  hy  the  throat]. 
Do  you  want  to  dishonor  the  people,  you  pig? 

Second  Vagabond  [trying  to  break  away] .  What's 
matter?     Are  you  crazy? 

First  Vagabond  [shaking  him].  Empty  your 
pockets ! 

Second  Vagabond.     But  I — 


66  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

FiEST  Vagabond  [^emptying  his  pockets].  Empty 
your  pockets,  you  thief! 

Second  Vagabond.  Haven't  we  the  right  to  rob 
the  aristos  any  more,  eh? 

The  Othees.  Hang  him !  Hang  him ! — Hang  him 
on  the  sign-board! — A  flogging  is  enough! — Ask  par- 
don of  the  people! — Good! — Now,  get  out!  [The 
Vagabond  runs  away.] 

FiasT  Vagabond  [setting  to  work].  He  ought  to 
have  been  hanged — for  an  example.  There  will  be 
others  like  him.  To  be  exposed  to  such  nastiness — 
keep  company  with  thieves!     It's  nasty. 

Camille  Desmoulins  [entering,  in  his  usual  absent- 
minded  idle  way].  A  spanking  will  be  enough  for  you. 
[They  all  laugh  and  set  to  work  again.] 

The  People.     Well,  let's  finish  this. 

Desmoulins  [looking  at  the  house  and  the  workers] . 
My  Lucile  is  there.  I've  just  been  to  see  her.  The 
house  was  empty.  They  told  me  the  family  went  out 
to  dinner  with  relatives  in  the  Faubourg  Saint- Antoine. 
They've  been  blockaded ! — ^Well,  I  should  think  so !  A 
splendid  fortification!  Scarp  and  counter-scarp, 
everything  perfect.  They  are  besieging  the  house. 
But,  my  friends,  we  have  to  demolish  the  Bastille,  and 
not  construct  another  like  it.  I  don't  know  what  your 
enemies  will  think,  but  it  is  in  any  case  dangerous  to 
your  friends:  I've  just  gotten  my  feet  tangled  up  in 
your  strings,  and  I  almost  stayed  where  I  was. — This 
cask  won't  stand.    You  must  put  back  the  paving-blocks. 

The  Carpentee.     Do  you  work  as  well  as  you  talk? 

Desmoulins  [gaily,  as  he  takes  up  a  block].     I  can 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  67 

work,  too.  [From  the  top  of  the  barricade,  where  he 
now  stands,  he  can  touch  the  window  of  the  house.  A 
light  is  seen  moving  inside.  Desmoumns  looks  at  it.l 
She  is  there ! 

The  Old  Boukgeois.  Provost  Flesselles  is  a 
traitor.  He  pretends  to  be  one  of  us,  but  he's  in  com- 
munication with  Versailles. 

The  Mason.  He's  the  one  who  organized  the  Bour- 
geois Militia;  it  pretends  to  defend  us,  but  it  tries  to 
tie  our  hands.  They're  all  Judases,  ready  to  sell  us. 

The  Cabpentee.  That  only  teaches  us  not  to  de- 
pend on  any  one  but  ourselves.  But  I've  known  that 
for  a  long  while.  [During  the  above,  Casulle  lightly 
taps  the  window,  and  calls  "  LucUe!  "  The  light  dis- 
appears, and  the  window  opens.  Lucile's  pretty  face, 
with  her  lovely  teeth  and  winning  smile,  appear  at  the 
window.  Each  puts  his  fingers  to  his  mouth,  a  warn- 
ing to  be  careful.  They  converse  by  means  of  lovers' 
signs.  Each  time  the  workers  raise  their  heads  from 
the  barricade  and  look  in  her  direction,  Lucile  quickly 
shuts  the  window.     But  two  workingmen  catch  sight  of 

her.] 

A  WoRKiNGMAN  [pomting  to  Desmoulins].     What's 

he  doing  anyway? 

Second  Wokkingman.  The  little  fellow's  in  love. 
Don't  bother  him ! 

First  Woekingman.  He'll  fight  all  the  better  for 
it.  The  rooster  will  defend  his  hen.  [They  continue 
working,  from  time  to  time  glancing  up  good-naturedly 
at  the  lovers.  But  they  always  observe  caution,  in 
order  not  to  interrupt  them.} 


68  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

LuciLE  [in  an  undertone].  What  are  you  doing 
there? 

Desmoulins.  It's  a  fort  to  defend  you.  [They 
look  at  each  other  and  smile,] 

LucLLE.  I  can't  stay  any  longer.  My  people  are 
here. 

Desmoulins.     Just  one  moment! 

LuciLE.  Later.  When  every  one  has  gone.  [Lu- 
ciLE  listens.]  They're  calling  me.  Wait.  [She  blows 
a  kiss  at  him  and  disappeg,r8.] 

The  Mason  [looking  at  the  barricade].  There, 
that's  done — and  well  done,  I  may  say. 

The  Caepenter  [slapping  Desmoulins  on  the 
shoulder].  Don't  work  too  hard:  you'll  come  down 
with  pleurisy. 

Desmoulins.  Each  one  has  his  work,  comrade. 
After  all,  this  barricade  here  is  the  result  of  my 
talk. 

The  Mason.     What  are  you  talking  about? 

The  Cabpentee.     Do  you  work  with  your  voice? 

Desmoulins.  Was  neither  of  you  at  the  Palais- 
Royal  yesterday? 

The  Crowd.  The  Palais-Royal? — Listen  to  that! 
— Are  you  the  little  fellow  who  called  us  to  arms,  and 
gave  us  our  cockades?  Are  you  Monsieur  Desmou- 
lins? Wonderful  speech! — ^How  well  you  spoke!  I 
cried!  Fine  little  fellow! — Monsieur  Desmoulins,  let 
me  shake  hands  with  you! — ^Long  live  Monsieur  Des- 
moulins !     Long  live  our  little  Camille ! 

GoNCHON  [enters,  in  the  uniform  of  a  Captain  of  the 
Bourgeois  Militia,  followed  by  his  patrol.]     What  the 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  69 

devil  are  you  doing  there?  What's  all  this  talking! 
You're  disturbing  the  peace!  Make  way,  there!  Go 
back  home ! 

The  People.  There's  that  damned  Bourgeois 
Guard  again! — Down  with  them! — ^Disturb  the  peace? 
That's  good ! — ^We're  defending  Paris ! 

GoNCHON.     That's  not  your  affair. 

The  People  [indignantly].     Not  our  affair? 

GoNCHON  [with  vehemence].  That's  not  your  af- 
fair. That's  our  business,  and  ours  alone.  We  are 
the  Permanent  Committee  on  defense.  Damn  you,  get 
out  of  here ! 

Desmoulins    [coming    close    to    him].     Why,    it's 

Gonchon ! 

GoncKOtf  Istumhling].  Ten  thousand  devils!  For 
God's  sake,  what  sons  of  dogs  have  put  up  that  thing, 
torn  up  the  street,  and  stopped  traffic!  Knock  that 
down,  do  you  hear ! 

The  People  [furiously].  Knock  down  our  barri- 
cade?    Try  it! 

The  Caepentee.  Listen  to  me.  Captain,  and  at- 
tend to  what  I  say.  We'll  agree  to  go  away  and  not 
question  the  Committee's  orders,  even  though  they're 
given  by  fools.  There  must  be  discipline  in  war-time ; 
we're  willing  to  submit,  but  if  you  touch  one  stone  of 
our  fortification,  we'll  smash  the  faces  of  you  and  the 
rest  of  your  monkeys. 

The  People.     Tear  down  our  barricade? 
Gonchon.     Who    said    anything    about   tearing    it 
down?     Are  we  masons?     We  have  something  better  to 
do.     Make  way  now  I 


70  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Mason  [in  a  menacing  tone]»  We'll  go,  but 
you  understand? 

GoNCHON  [with  aplomb].  I  said  no  one  would 
touch  it.  No  back-talk,  now!  [The  workers  dis- 
perse. Desmoulins  lags  behind.]  Didn't  you  hear, 
you? 

Desmouuns.  Don't  you  allow  any  privileges  to 
your  friends,  Gonchon? 

GoNCHON.  Oh,  it's  you,  you  damned  spouter!  Ar- 
rest that  fellow! 

RoBESPiEREE  [entering].  Sacrilege!  Who  dares 
lift  a  hand  against  the  founder  of  Liberty? 

Desmoulins.     Ah,  Robespierre!     Thanks. 

Gonchon  [releasing  Desmoulins — aside].  A  Dep- 
uty! The  devil!  [Aloud.]  Very  well.  You  see,  it  is 
Hiy  duty  to  keep  order,  and  I  will  keep  it  in  spite  of 
everything. 

Robespieeee.  Come  with  me,  Camille.  Our  friends 
are  meeting  in  this  house  tonight.  [He  points  to  the 
house  down-stage,  left.] 

Desmoulins  [aside],  I  can  see  Lucile's  window 
from  here!  [They  go  to  the  house,  at  the  door  of 
which,  in  an  obscure  entrance,  a  man  is  on  guard.  He 
is  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  has  bare  legs,  and  carries  a 
musket.] 

The  Man.     Who  are  you? 

Robespieeee.     Robespierre. 

The  Man.     I  don't  know  you. 

Robespieeee.     Deputy  from  Arras. 

The  Man.     Show  your  card. 

Desmoulins.     Desmoulins. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  71 

The    Man.     The    little    fellow    with    the    cockade? 
Pass,  comrade. 

Desmgulins    [pointing    to   Robespierre].     He    is 
with  me. 

The  Man.     Pass,  you,  too,  citizen  Robert  Pierre. 
Desmgulins  [fatuously].     Admire  the  power  of  elo- 
quence, my  friend !     [Robespierre  looks  at  him  with  a 
bitter  smile,  sighs,  and  follows  him  without  a  word.] 

Gonchgn  [going  to  The  Man].     What's  going  on 
here  ? 

The  Man.     Make  way ! 

Gonchgn.     What's   that,  you  rascal?     What   are 
you  doing  here? 

The  Man  [emphatically].  I  am  watching  over  the 
nation — over  the  thoughts  of  the  nation. 

Gonchgn.     What    are   you   talking   about?     Have 
you  any  papers?     Who  stationed  you  here? 
The  Man.     I. 
Gonchgn.     Go  home! 

The  Man.  I  am  home.  My  home  is  the  street.  I 
have  no  home.  You  go  home  yourself.  Get  off  my 
side-walk !  [He  makes  a  step  toward  Gonchgn  with  a 
threat.] 

Gonchgn.  Ah!  No  quarreling,  now.  I  refuse  to 
waste  my  time  squabbling  with  a  drunkard.  Now,  I 
shall  continue  on  my  rounds.  These  cursed  vaga- 
bonds !  And  these  barricades — they  spring  up  out  of 
the  ground,  like  mushrooms;  and  the  streets  are  full 
of  these  fellows !  They  think  of  nothing  but  fighting ! 
If  they  were  let  alone,  there  would  be  no  king  tomor- 
row !     [He  goes  out  wnth  his  men,]^ 


72  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Man.  Look  at  those  nasty  scoundrels,  tho8« 
blue  toads,  those  idiotic  fools!  Just  because  they're 
titled,  they  think  they  can  make  laws  for  free  men ! 
Bourgeois!  The  moment  four  of  them  gather  to- 
gether, they  form  committees  and  spoil  good  paper 
with  their  rules  and  regulations !  "  Show  your  pa- 
pers !  "  As  if  we  had  to  have  their  permission,  their 
signatures,  and  the  rest  of  it,  to  defend  ourselves  when 
we're  attacked!  Let  every  one  protect  himself!  It's 
shameful  to  think  a  man  has  to  let  some  one  else  defend 
him !  They  tried  to  make  us  give  up  our  muskets,  and 
throw  us  into  prison.  Can't  do  that!  And  those 
other  fools,  who  think  they're  being  betrayed,  and  at 
the  first  injunction,  throw  up  a  barricade  out  of  re- 
spect for  the  constituted  authorities  and  the  moneyed 
classes!  They're  used  to  serving,  and  I  suppose  they 
can't  get  over  their  old  habits  in  a  day.  Luckily, 
there  are  other  wandering  dogs  like  me,  who  haven't 
any  home,  and  respect  nothing.  Well,  I'll  stay  here 
and  keep  guard.  By  God,  they  won't  take  our  Paris ! 
Never  mind  if  I  haven't  a  thing  to  my  name,  it  belongs 
to  us  all,  and  we're  going  to  hold  on  to  it.  Yesterday, 
I  didn't  have  any  idea  of  all  this.  What  was  this  city 
to  me,  where  I  hadn't  a  blessed  hole  to  crawl  into  when 
it  rained,  or  a  place  to  get  a  crust  of  bread.?  What 
did  I  care  about  it?  What  did  I  care  about  any  one's 
happiness  or  sorrow?  But  now  everything's  changed. 
I've  got  a  part  to  play ;  I  feel  that  everything  belongs 
just  a  little  to  me:  their  houses,  their  money,  and  their 
thoughts---I  must  watch  over  them;  they  are  working 
for  me.     Everybody  is  equal,  equal  and  free.     God,  I 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  7S 

always  felt  that,  but  I  couldn't  say  it.  Free!  I'm 
a  vagabond,  I'm  hungry,  but  I  don't  care:  I'm  free. 
Free!  It  makes  my  chest  swell,  it  does!  I'm  a 
king.  I  could  walk  over  the  world.  [He  becomes 
excited  as  he  talks,  striding  back  and  forth.] 
It's  like  as  if  I  was  drunk;  my  head's  turned — 
though  I  haven't  drunk  a  drop.  What  is  it?  It's 
glory! 

HuLiN  [coming  from  the  house].  I  was  stifling  in 
there.     I  must  get  out. 

The  Man.     Eh,  Hulin,  what  are  they  doing? 

HuLiN.  Talking,  talking.  The  damned  gossips. 
They're  never  at  a  loss  for  something  to  say.  Des- 
moulins  is  making  jokes  and  spouting  Latin.  Robes- 
pierre, with  his  long  face,  declares  he'll  sacrifice  him- 
self. They're  calling  everything  into  question:  laws, 
the  social  contract,  reason,  the  origin  of  the  world. 
One  is  making  war  on  God,  and  the  other  on  Nature. 
As  to  real  war  plans,  how  to  protect  themselves  against 
danger,  not  a  word!  Their  counsel  is  like  that  in 
Paris :  when  it  rains,  why  let  it  rain ! — ^Devil  take  these 
phrasemakers ! 

The  Man.  Don't  blame  them.  It's  a  fine  thing  to 
be  able  to  speak.  I  tell  you,  there  are  words  he  uses 
that  catch  you  way-down  inside.  They  make  the 
shivers  run  up  your  spine.  They  make  you  cry,  they'd 
make  you  even  kill  your  father;  and  they  make  you 
feel  as  strong  as  the  whole  world;  make  you  feel 
like  the  good  God  Himself.  Each  man  has  his  own 
work  to  do.  They  do  the  thinking  for  us ;  we've  got  to 
do  our  part  for  them. 


74  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HuuN.  What  do  you  want  to  do?  Look.  [He 
indicates  the  BastUle.] 

The  Man.  Lights  on  the  left  tower.  They're 
not  sleeping  any  more  than  we,  up  there.  They're 
fixing  up  their  cannon. 

HuLiN.  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  them.'' 
You  can't  resist  them. 

The  Man.     That  remains  to  be  seen. 

HuLiN.     What  do  you  mean? 

The  Man.  I  mean,  that  remains  to  be  seen.  Two 
small  make  one  great. 

HuLiN.     You  are  an  optimist. 

The  Man.     It's  my  character. 

HuiiiN.  It  doesn't  seem  to  have  agreed  with  you, 
however. 

The  Man  [good-naturedlyl.  But  I  am  naturally 
an  optimist.  Luck  and  I  are  not  close  relatives.  As 
long  as  I  can  remember,  I  never  got  anything  I  wanted. 
[Laughing.]  Good  Lord,  I've  had  bad  luck  enough 
in  my  life!  Everything  isn't  pleasure;  life  is  a  mix- 
ture. But  I  don't  care:  I'm  always  hoping,  and  some- 
times I'm  wrong.  This  time,  Hulin,  something  good's 
come  to  me.    The  wind  has  shifted,  and  luck  is  with  us. 

Hulin  [chaffingly].  Luck?  You'd  better  ask  it  to 
warm  you  up  a  bit  first. 

The  Man  [looking  at  his  naked  feet].  I'd  rather 
wear  these  shoes  than  the  King's.  I'd  go  this  way  to 
Vienna  or  Berlin,  if  necessary,  to  teach  those  kings  a 
lesson. 

Hulin.     Haven't  you  enough  to  do  here? 

The  Man.     That  won't  last  forever,     When  we*re 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  75 

through  here,  and  have  cleaned  up  Paris  and  France, 
why  not  go  the  lot  of  us,  arm-m-arm,  soldiers,  bour- 
geois, Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  and  clean  up  Europe? 
We  aren't  selfish:  we  don't  want  all  the  fun  for  our- 
selves. You  know,  every  time  I  learn  something  new, 
I  want  to  tell  it  to  others.  Ever  since  these  things 
began  to  stir  in  me — Liberty,  and  all  this  damned  fine 
stuff — I  feel  I've  just  got  to  tell  it  to  everybody,  and 
spout  it  everywhere.  God,  if  the  others  are  like  me, 
we'll  do  great  things.  I  can  already  see  the  ground 
trembling  under  our  feet,  and  Europe  boiling  like  wine 
in  a  vat.  People  are  falling  on  our  necks.  It's  like 
little  brooks  rushing  down  to  meet  the  river.  We're 
a  great  river,  washing  everything  clean. 

HuLiN.     Say,  are  you  sick? 

The  Man.     I?     I'm  as  well  as  a  cabbage. 

HuLiN.     And  yet  you  dream? 

The  Man.  All  the  time.  It's  good,  too.  If  you 
dream  enough,  you  end  by  getting  something  of  what 
you're  dreaming  about.  Hey,  Hulin,  what  do  you  say? 
Won't  it  be  a  fine  march?    Aren't  you  coming  with  us? 

Hulin.  As  soon  as  you've  taken  Vienna  and  Berlin, 
I'll  keep  watch  over  them. 

The  Man.     Don't  joke.     Who  knows? 

Hulin.     Anything  can  happen — 

The  Man.     Anything  you  wish  for  happens. 

Hulin.  Meantime  I'd  like  to  know  what's  going  to 
happen  right  now. 

The  Man.  That's  hard  to  tell.  How  are  we  going 
about  it?  We'll  see.  SuflScient  unto  the  hour  is  the 
work  thereof. 


76  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HuLiN.  These  French  devils  are  all  alike.  They 
think  of  what  may  happen  in  a  hundred  years,  and  not 
of  the  next  day. 

The  Man.  Perhaps.  But  then  others  will  think 
of  us  in  a  hundred  years. 

HuLiN.     Much  good  that  does  you ! 

The  Man.  My  bones  thrill  already!  What 
troubles  me  is  that  in  history  they  won't  know  my 
name. 

HuLiN.     You're  vain ! 

The  Man.     Well,  I  love  glory. 

HuLiN.  It's  a  fine  thing,  of  course.  The  only 
trouble  is  that  you  can't  enjoy  it  until  you're  dead. 
A  good  pipe  is  better.     [Vintimille  enters  right.'] 

ViNTiMiLLE.  The  streets  are  empty.  Two  vaga- 
bonds talking  about  glory.  A  little  mound  of  broken 
furniture,  put  there  by  a  lot  of  epileptics.  So  this  is 
the  great  revolution!  A  patrol  of  guards  is  enough 
to  put  the  rabble  in  its  place.  What  are  they  waiting 
for  at  Versailles  ? 

The  Man  [getting  up  quickly  and  going  to  Vinti- 
mtlle].     What's  he  want.'* 

Vintimille  [ironically,  as  he  glances  at  The  Man]. 
Is  this  a  new  uniform  of  the  Archers.'*  Get  out  of 
here,  old  man ! 

The  Man.  Who  are  you?  Where  are  you  going 
at  this  hour? 

Vintimille  [handing  him  a  paper].     Can  you  read? 

The  Man.  Papers?  Of  course,  I  can  read.  [To 
HuLiN.]     You  read  them.  -  What  is  it? 

Hulin  [after  having  read],    A  pass.    It's  all  right. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  77 

Signed  by  the  Committee  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  Coun- 
tersigned by  the  Captain  of  the  Bourgeois  Militia, 
Gonchon. 

The  Man.  Good  joke!  Anybody  can  buy  those. 
[^He  grumhlingly  allows  Vintimille  to  pass.'\ 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Of  course !  Everything  can  be  bought. 
[As  he  turns  to  go^  he  throws  a  coin  at  The  Man.] 

Tu.^Mh^  [onthe  alerf].     What!    What's  that? 

Vintimille  [without  turning^.  You  see.  Take  it 
and  keep  your  mouth  shut. 

The  Man  [running  to  Vintimille  and  blocking  his 
way].  So  you're  an  aristocrat.?  You're  trying  to 
bribe  me? 

HuLiN  [interposing].  Don't,  comrade,  don't.  I 
know  him  very  well.     [He  goes  to  Vintimille.] 

Vintimille  [casually].     Why,  it's — 

HuLiN.     Hulin. 

Vintimille.  Of  course.  [A  momenfs  silence. 
They  look  at  each  other.] 

Hulin  [to  The  Man].     Let  him  pass. 

The  Man  [furiously — shouting].  He  wanted  to 
bribe  me — he  wanted  to  buy  my  conscience  I 

Vintimille.  Your  conscience?  What  should  I  do 
with  it?  The  idea!  I  pay  for  favors  done  me. 
Quick !     Take  it. 

The  Man.  I'm  not  doing  favors!  I'm  doing  my 
duty. 

Vintimille.  Then  it's  to  pay  you  for  doing  your 
duty.     What  do  I  care? 

The  Man.  You  don't  pay  people  for  doing  their 
duty.     I  am  free  1 


78  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Your  dutj  and  your  liberty  won't  feed 
you.  I  refuse  to  argue.  Hurry  up,  now;  money  is 
always  good,  no  matter  how  one  gets  it.  Don't  stand 
there  like  that;  you  know  you  want  it.  I  know  you'll 
end  by  taking  it.  I  suppose  you  want  more,  eh?  How 
much  do  you  want,  free  man.? 

The  Man  [who  has  several  times  been  on  the  point 
of  taking  the  money,  jumps  upon  Vintimille.  Hulin 
pulls  him  away] .     Let  me  go,  Hulin !    Let  me  go ! 

Hulin.     Stop  it! 

The  Man.     I've  got  to  kill  him! 

ViNTiMiiiLE.     What's  this ! 

The  Man  [held  back  by  Hulin,  says  to  Vinti- 
mille]. Get  out!  Why  did  you  come  here,  anyway? 
I  was  happy,  I  didn't  realize  how  poor  I  was.  I  was 
free,  master  of  everything.  You  remind  me  that  I'm 
hungry,  that  I  haven't  a  thing,  that  I  don't  belong  to 
myself,  that  a  filthy  scoundrel  can  be  my  master  by 
means  of  a  little  money  that  makes  a  slave  of  me  be- 
cause I  need  it.  You've  spoiled  all  my  happiness. 
Get  out ! 

Vintimille.  What  a  to-do  for  so  little!  Who 
gives  a  damn  about  your  scruples?  I'm  not  asking 
anything  of  you.     Take  it ! 

The  Man.  I'd  rather  starve. — ^You  give  it  to  me, 
Hulin.  [Vintimille  gives  the  money  to  Hulin,  who 
drops  his  hand.  The  money  falls  to  the  ground,  and 
The  Man  picks  it  up.] 

Hulin.     Where  are  you  going? 

The  Man.     Get  drunk — and  forget. 

Vintimille.     Forget  what? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  79 

The  Man.  That  I'm  not  free.  Dirty  scoundrel! 
[He  goes  out.] 

ViNTiMiLLE.  The  pest!  There's  nothing  quite  so 
bad  as  a  rascal  like  that  who  develops  his  self-respect, 
and  is  without  means  to  preserve  it.  Good  evening, 
ray  boy,  and  thank  you. 

HuLiN.  Thank  you.  I  didn't  mention  your  name, 
because  you'd  never  have  escaped  alive.  It  would  have 
been  disloyal  of  me,  and  I  am  an  honest  man.  Any- 
way, I  dislike  violence,  and  I  don't  believe  in  revolu- 
tion. But  I  am  not  one  of  you,  and  I  don't  care  to 
bring  harm  to  my  comrades.  What  are  you  doing 
here.? 

ViNTiMiLLE.     You  are  inquisitive! 
HuLiN.     I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you  are  playing 
with  death.     Do  you  realize  how  people  hate  you.? 

ViNTiMiLLE.  I  have  just  been  to  see  my  mistress. 
Shall  I  change  my  habits  for  the  sake  of  two  or  three 
madmen  ? 

HuLiN.     There  are  more  than  you  imagine. 
VINTIMILLE.     So  much  the  better.     The  more  nu- 
merous and  insolent  they  are,  the  better,  say  I. 
HuLiN.     Better  for  whom? 

VINTIMILLE.  For  us.  Our  age  is  rotten  with  senti- 
mentality. You  don't  dare  do  a  thing.  One  dare 
not  give  an  order  for  fear  of  offending  this  damned 
liberty  of  the  populace — and  shedding  a  few  drops  of 
blood.  This  effeminacy  is  the  cause  of  all  the  dis- 
orders of  the  kingdom.  The  only  cure  for  so  much 
evil  is  more  evil.  A  good  uprising  is  what  we  need. 
That  will  be  a  splendid  reason  and  pretext  for  putting 


80  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

them  in  their  place.  We  are  ready.  We  can  do  it 
in  a  day,  and  we  won't  be  troubled  again  for  a  good 
fifty  years  with  these  insane  ravings  of  philosophers 
and  cheap  lawyers. 

HuLiN.  So  then,  a  revolution  would  do  that  for 
you?  You  don't  object  to  the  people  having  a  grand 
butchery?     A  few  crimes,  eh? 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Why  not?  Something  that  will  cre- 
ate quite  a  disturbance. 

HuLiN.     What  if  they  began  with  you? 

ViNTiMiLLE.     The  idea! 

HuLiN.  Do  you  know  what  Fd  like  to  do  this  in- 
stant? 

ViNTIMILLE.       No. 

HuMN.     Don't  provoke  me ! 

ViNTIMILLE.  But  you  Wouldn't  do  anything,  my 
friend.     You  are  an  honest  man! 

HuiiiN.  What  do  you  know  about  that?  I  said  I 
was ;  I  was  boasting. 

ViNTIMILLE.  No,  no,  but  you  are  now.  Even  if 
you  had  said  nothing,  I  could  have  seen  it  in  your  face. 

HuLiN.  Is  that  a  reason  why  I  shouldn't  inform  on 
you  if  I  like. 

ViNTIMILLE.  Certainly.  You  must  pay  for  your 
honesty  by  sacrifice.  What  would  you  think  of  your- 
self, Hulin,  if  you  betrayed  me?  Would  you  not  lose 
forever  that  invaluable  possession:  your  self-esteem? 
It's  not  so  easy  as  you  think  to  go  against  your  con- 
science. As  you  say,  you  are  an  honest  man. 
Good-by.      [He  goes.] 

Hulin.     He's  making  game  of  me.     He  knows  me. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  81 

— It's  true,  those  villains  will  always  have  the  better 
of  us  honest  people,  because  they're  used  to  giving  or- 
ders, and  we  are  not.  Then  why  remain  honest,  if 
it's  all  a  fraud  ?  Because  we  can't  do  otherwise.  Well, 
it's  better  so.  I  couldn't  breathe  if  I  were  as  morally 
rotten  and  nasty  as  they  are !  I  know  they'll  get  the 
better  of  us.  The  day  is  at  hand.  But  it  would  have 
been  wonderful  to  win.  They're  going  to  crush  us ! 
[He  shrugs  his  shoulders.]  And — after?  [In  the 
distance  is  heard  the  joyous  voice  of  Hoche,  answered 
hy  the  acclamations  of  the  Crowd.  Windows  are 
thrown  wide  open,  and  people  lean  out  to  see.  Des- 
MOULiNs,  RoBESPiEaaE,  and  their  friends  come  forth 
from  the  cafe  where  they  have  been  meeting.] 

HocHE  [enters  laughing,  and  shows  his  comrades 
the  fortifications].  Look  at  this.  What  Vauban 
built  it,  eh  ?  Fine  fellows !  I  could  kiss  you  all ! 
What  work  they  must  have  put  into  it!  And  why.'' 
Against  whom?  Your  friends?  The  enemy  will  never 
come.     Don't  worry. 

The  People.  Long  live  the  French  Guards! 
[Makat  runs  to  Hoche,  and  bars  his  way  with  out- 
stretched arms.] 

Maeat.  Stop,  soldier!  Not  another  step.  [The 
Crowd,  astonished,  press  around  them  to  see.] 

Desmoulins.  What's  the  matter  with  him?  Has  he 
lost  his  head? 

HuLiN.     Yea,  long  ago ! 

Maeat.  Surrender  your  saber !  Every  one  give  up 
his  arms ! 

Desmgulins.     He'll  cut  himself. 


82  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Fbench  Guards.  What's  that! — Give  up  my 
saber? — I'll  give  it  to  you  in  the  belly! 

The  People.     Kill  him ! 

HocHE.  Silence!  Let  me  explain.  I  know  him. 
— Let  me  go,  friend! 

Mabat  [standing  on  the  tips  of  his  toes  to  take 
HocHE  by  the  collar] .     Give  up  your  saber ! 

HocHE  [quietly  freeing  himself y  and  talcing  hold  of 
Maeat,  who  squirms] .  What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
it,  son? 

Maeat.  Keep  you  from  thrusting  it  into  the  heart 
of  Liberty. 

HocHE.  Do  you  suspect  those  who  have  come  to 
shed  their  blood  for  the  people? 

Maeat.  Who  guarantees  your  loyalty?  "Why 
should  we  have  confidence  in  unknown  soldiers? 

The  Feench  Guaeds.  Break  his  head,  Hoche! 
[HocHE  quiets  them  with  a  gesture,  looks  smilingly  at 
Marat,  and  releases  him.]  He  is  right.  Why  have 
confidence  in  us?  He  has  never  seen  us  at  work. 
[Marat,  with  not  a  word  to  say,  suddenly  assumes  an 
attitude  of  silent  impassiveness.]  Good  Lord,  it  is 
hard  to  let  yourself  be  accused  when  you're  risking 
death  for  those  birds ! 

HocHE.  Why,  he  doesn't  know  us.  That  makes  no 
difference.  [Good-naturedly.]  But  you're  mistaken. 
Marat,  you  have  done  well  to  take  such  precautions 
for  the  people.  [To  the  People.]  We'll  understand 
each  other  in  a  moment.  A  glance  will  prove  that  we 
are  all  good  fellows,  and  believe  in  one  another.  But 
he  is   wise  and  has  given   us   a   lesson  in  prudence: 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  83 

this  is  war-time,  and  you  have  the  right  to 
demand  an  account  from  every  one.  No  one  can  be 
excepted. 

The  People.  We  know  you,  Hoche,  you're  a 
friend ! 

Hoche.  Be  careful  with  your  friends.  [Smiling]. 
That  doesn't  refer  to  me.  Your  uncertain  position 
does  not  make  many  friends  for  you,  and  what  few 
you  have,  are  not  dangerous.  But  when  you  become 
powerful,  you  will  see  them  flock  to  you;  then  you 
must  keep  your  eyes  open. 

The  French  Guaeds.  That's  good  advice. — ^Be 
prudent,  that's  right !     Trust  no  one ! 

Hoche  [laughing].  When  two  eyes  please  me,  I 
ask  .nothing  more.  But  I'm  a  fool,  and  that's  my 
affair.  You  have  to  save  the  world.  Don't  imitate 
me.  We  are  only  a  few  hundred  French  Guards.  Our 
officers,  who  know  our  sympathies  for  the  people,  tried 
to  send  us  to  Saint-Denis,  away  from  you.  But  we 
left  our  barracks  and  now  we  offer  our  sabers  to  you. 
In  order  to  reassure  Marat,  divide  yourselves  into 
groups  of  ten  or  twenty;  then  each  group  takes  its 
place  in  a  people's  battalion.  Then  you  will  be  our 
masters,  and  we  can  lead  you  and  train  you.  Will 
you  come  with  me,  Marat?  We  can  each  learn  some- 
thing from  the  other.  You'll  see  that  there  are  still 
brave  men ;  and  perhaps  you  will  teach  me  to  hunt 
down  traitors — though  I  think  your  labor  will  be  lost. 
[Marat,  whose  eyes  have  been  glued  on  Hoche,  goes 
to  him  and  offers  his  hand.] 

Marat.     I  was  mistaken. 


84  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HocHE  [takes  his  hand  and  smiles].  How  tiresome 
it  must  be  to  suspect  people!     I'd  rather  die. 

Maeat  [sighing].  So  would  I.  But  as  you  said 
just  now,  it  is  not  for  us,  but  for  the  nation. 

HocHE.  Continue  to  keep  a  sharp  watch  over  the 
people.     I  don't  envy  you:  my  task  is  much  easier. 

Mabat  [looking  at  Hoche].  Oh,  Nature,  if  the 
eyes  and  voice  of  this  man  lie,  there  is  no  honesty! 
Soldier,  I  have  offended  you  before  every  one.  And 
before  every  one,  I  ask  your  pardon. 

Hoche.  But  you  didn't  offend  me.  No  one  knows 
better  than  I  what  a  military  chief  is,  and  what  dan- 
gers beset  the  cause  of  Liberty.  Military  discipline 
makes  every  man  a  slave;  men  cannot  like  it:  we  abhor 
it  as  much  as  you  do.  We  have  ourselves  just  broken 
the  blind  power  that  was  in  our  hands.  Open  your  arms 
to  us,  make  room  for  us  at  your  tables,  give  us  back 
our  lost  liberty,  our  cramped  consciences,  our  right  to 
be  men  like  you,  your  equals  and  your  brothers.  Sol- 
diers, become  again  part  of  the  People.  And  you, 
People,  all  of  you,  become  the  Army;  defend  your- 
selves, defend  us,  and  defend  our  souls,  which  are  being 
attacked.  Give  us  your  hands,  embrace  us,  let  us  be 
but  one  heart.  You  are  all  of  you  our  friends.  All 
of  us  for  all  of  us ! 

The  People  and  the  Soldiers  [in  an  ecstasy  of 
fraternal  enthusiasm,  laughing,  crying,  embracing  one 
another] .  Yes,  for  you,  for  you !  Our  brothers  the 
people !  Our  soldier  brothers  ! — For  all  who  suffer ! 
For  the  oppressed! — For  all  mankind!  [The  enthusi- 
asm waxes  into  a  pandemonium,  and  is  increased  with 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  85 

cries  and  cheers  from  the  windows  of  the  neighboring 
houses.] 

HuLiN.  Hurrah!  Hoche!  At  last,  some  one  who 
dispels  the  sadness ! 

Hoche  [amiahly,  to  the  people  who  acclaim  him  from 
the  windows].  What  are  you  doing  there  at  home? 
Why  shut  yourselves  in  on  a  beautiful  July  night  like 
this?  Man  is  sad  when  he  is  alone.  It  is  the  fetid 
air  of  the  cellar  that  breeds  suspicion  and  doubt. 
Come  forth  from  your  houses;  you've  been  shut  up 
too  long.  You  must  live  now  in  the  open  streets. 
Come  out  and  watch  the  sun  rise.  The  enslaved  city 
now  breathes  freely;  the  cool  winds  from  the  prairies 
are  blowing  over  the  houses  and  the  streets  that  are 
blocked  by  our  armies;  they  bring  us  the  salute  from, 
the  friendly  countryside.  The  grain  is  ripe,  come  and 
reap  it. 

La  Contat.  What  a  splendid  fellow !  He  breathes 
joy  and  happiness.     [She  goes  toward  Hoche.] 

Hoche.  Ah,  there  you  are,  you  flower-girl  of  Lib- 
erty! Madame  Royalist,  who  stripped  the  trees  of 
the  Palais-Royal  and  threw  cockades  to  the  people. 
I  knew  you  would  come.  Do  you  at  last  believe  in  our 
cause  ? 

La  Contat.  I  believe  in  anything  you  say.  With 
a  face  like  yours — [she  points  to  his  face]  I  could 
always  be  converted.     [The  People  laugh.] 

Hoche  [laughing].  I'm  not  surprised.  I  always 
knew  I  had  an  apostolic  temperament.  Well,  take 
your  place,  then.  We  won't  refuse  any  one.  Take 
a  pike :  a  girl  like  you  ought  to  defend  herself. 


86  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

La  Contat.  Oh,  oIi,  don't  enroll  me  so  quickly! 
I  look  on,  I  applaud,  and  I  find  the  piece  interesting, 
but  I'm  not  playing  this  evening. 

HocHE.  So  you  think  it's  merely  interesting? 
You  think  it  is  play?  Look  at  this  poor  devil,  his 
bones  sticking  out  of  his  blouse,  and  this  woman  nurs- 
ing her  child.  Is  it  amusing  to  see  them  starve?  You 
think  it  a  good  comedy  to  see  these  people,  with- 
out bread,  without  a  future,  thinking  only  of  humanity, 
and  of  eternal  justice?  Don't  you  think  it's  at  least 
as  serious  as  a  Corneille  tragedy? 

La  Contat.     That,  too,  is  only  a  play. 

HocHE.  Nothing  is  play.  Everything  is  serious. 
Cinna  and  Nicomede  exist,  just  as  I  do. 

La  Contat.  You  are  strange !  Actors  and  authors 
construct  make-believe  things,  which  you  accept  as 
gospel ! 

HocHE.  You're  mistaken,  it  isn't  make-believe  for 
you:  you  don't  know  yourself. 

La  Contat.  You  make  me  laugh!  Do  you  know 
me? 

HocHE.     I've  seen  you  on  the  stage. 

La  Contat.     And  do  you  imagine  I  feel  what  I  act? 

HocHE.  You  can't  deny  it:  your  instinct  makes 
you  feel.  A  power  is  never  an  illusion ;  it  carries  you 
along.     I  know  better  than  you  what  it  does  to  you. 

La  Contat.     What? 

HocHE.  What  is  strong  goes  with  what  is  strong. 
You  will  be  one  of  us. 

La  Contat.     I  don't  think  so. 

HocHE.     What    difference?     There    are    only    two 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  87 

parties  in  the  world:  the  healthy  and  the  sick.  What 
is  healthy  goes  with  life.     Life  is  with  us.     Come! 

La  Contat.     With  you — willingly. 

HocHE.  So  you  won't  decide!  Very  well,  we'll  see 
later  on,  if  we  have  time  to  think. 

La  Contat.     There  is  always  time  for  love. 

HocHE.  You've  been  made  to  think  that  too  often. 
Do  you  think  our  revolution  is  going  to  be  merely  some 
gallant  little  story.''  Ah,  you  little  women!  During 
the  fifty  years  you  have  been  governing  France,  and  had 
everything  brought  you,  done  for  you,  did  it  never 
enter  your  heads  that  there  might  be  something  more 
important  than  your  dainty  selves.?  Play  is  over  and 
done  with,  Madame.  This  is  a  serious  game,  in  which 
the  stake  is  the  world  itself.  Make  way  for  the  men! 
If  you  dare,  follow  us  to  battle,  help  us,  share  our 
faith,  but,  by  God,  don't  dare  try  to  shake  it.  You 
count  for  very  little  beside  it.  I'm  not  angry,  Contat ! 
I  have  no  time  for  a  flirtation,  and  as  for  my  heart, 
it  already  belongs  to  some  one  else. 

La  Contat.     To  whom.** 

HocHE.     To  Liberty, 

La  Contat.     I'd  like  to  know  what  she  looks  like. 

HocHE.  She  is  a  little  like  you,  I  imagine.  Very 
healthy,  well-built,  blonde,  passionate,  audacious,  but 
rouged  like  yourself,  with  beauty-spots — ironic,  too; 
but  she  does,  instead  of  making  fun  of  those  who  do; 
and  instead  of  making  double-meaning  phrases,  she 
breathes  words  of  devotion  and  fraternity.  I  am  her 
lover.  When  you  are  like  her,  I  will  love  you.  That 
is  all  I  have  to  say. 


88  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

La  Contat.  I  like  her,  and  I  will  have  you.  Now, 
to  battle!  [She  snatches  a  musket  front  one  of  the 
People,  and  declaims  with  great  warmth,  a  few  lines 
from  **  Cin/na": 

"  Thou  need'st  fear  no  success  which  shames  thy  name ! 
For  good  and  evil  both  are  for  thy  glory, 
And  though  the  plot's  reveal'd  and  thou  dost  die. 
Thy  honor's  still  intact.    Think  but  of  Brutus 
And  valiant  Cassius,  are  their  names  obscured? 
Did  these  two  heroes  perish  with  their  plots? 
Are  they  not  honored  with  the  greatest  Romans? 

Go,  follow  them,  where  honor  bids  you  tread !  ** 

She  rushes  into  the  arms  of  the  People,  who  wildly  ap- 
plaud her.] 

HocHE.  Splendid!  Let  Corneille  be  our  guide! 
Wave  the  torch  of  heroism  before  our  eyes ! 

HuLiN.     Where  are  you  going? 

HocHE.  Where  are  we  going?  \_He  raises  his  eyes, 
and  looks  at  the  house  of  little  Julie  who,  partly 
dressed,  leans  out  the  window,  excited  and  joyous.] 
Ask  that  little  woman.  I  want  her  to  give  the  answer 
which  is  in  all  our  hearts.  You  innocent  little  one, 
be  our  voice,  and  tell  us  where  we  are  going? 

Julie  [leaning  far  out  of  the  window,  but  kept  from 
falling  by  her  mother, — shouting  at  the  top  of  her 
voice].     To  the  Bastille! 

The  People.  To  the  Bastille !  [The  Crowd  is  at 
the  highest  pitch  of  excitement.  They  gather  into 
little  groups — workingmen,  bourgeois,  students,  and 
women.]  The  Bastille!  The  Bastille!  Break  the 
yoke !     At  last !     Down  with  that  stupid  mass !     Monu- 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  89 

ment  of  our  defeat  and  degradation!  The  tomb  of 
those  who  dare  speak  the  truth! — Voltaire's  prison! — 
Mirabeau's  prison! — The  prison  of  Liberty!  Let's 
breathe! — ^Monster,  you  will  fall!  We'll  pull  down 
every  stone  of  you!  Down  with  the  murderer!  Cow- 
ard!— Cut-throat !  [They  shake  their  -fists  at  the  Bas- 
tiLlCi  and  shout  until  they  are  hoarse.  Hulin,  Robes- 
piEBRE,  and  Maeat  wildly  wave  their  arms,  and  try  to 
make  themselves  heard  above  the  clamor.  It  is  seen 
that  they  disapprove  of  what  the  People  are  doing,  but 
their  voices  are  drowned  out.'\ 

HuiiiN  [at  last  making  himself  heard].  You're  mad, 
mad,  I  tell  you!  We'll  only  break  ourselves  against 
that  mountain ! 

Marat  [his  arms  crossed].  I  really  marvel  at  you! 
Giving  yourselves  all  this  trouble  to  free  a  handful  of 
aristocrats!  Don't  you  know  that  there  are  only  a 
few  rich  men  in  there?  It's  a  luxurious  prison,  made 
especially  for  them.  Let  them  mind  their  own  affairs. 
That  doesn't  concern  you. 

HocHE.  Every  sort  of  injustice  concerns  us.  Our 
Revolution  is  not  a  family  matter.  If  we  are  not  rich 
enough  to  have  relations  in  the  Bastille,  we  can  at 
least  adopt  the  rich  people  who  are  as  unfortunate  as 
we.     Every  man  who  suffers  unjustly  is  a  brother. 

Marat.     You  are  right. 

The  People.     We  want  the  Bastille ! 

Hulin.  But,  you  fools,  how  are  you  going  to  take 
it.?     We  have  no  weapons,  and  they  have ! 

HocHE.  Of  course.  Let  us  take  the  weapons,  then. 
[Confusion  at  the  back  of  the  stage.] 


90  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

A  WoRKiNGMAN  [running  in],  I've  just  come  from 
the  Left  Bank.  They're  all  on  the  move:  in  the  Place 
Maubert,  La  Basoche,  La  Montagne  Sainte-Genevieve. 
They're  marching  against  the  Invalides  to  seize  the 
weapons  there — thousands  of  muskets !  The  French 
Guards,  monks,  women,  students,  a  whole  army.  The 
King's  Attorney  and  the  Cure  de  Saint-Etienne-du- 
Mont  are  marching  at  their  head. 

HocHE.  You  were  asking  for  weapons,  Hulin. 
There  they  are. 

Hulin.  You  can't  take  the  Bastille  with  a  few 
hundred  old  arquebuses,  or  even  a  few  good  cannon 
from  the  Invalides.  You  might  as  well  try  to  split  a 
rock  open  with  a  knife. 

HocHE.  No,  the  Bastille  can't  be  taken  with 
cannon,  but  it  will  be  taken. 

Hulin.     How? 

HocHE.  The  Bastille  must  fall,  and  fall  it  will. 
The  gods  are  with  us. 

Hulin  [with  a  shrug].     What  gods? 

HocHE.     Justice,  Reason.     Bastille,  you  will  fall ! 

The  People.     You  will  fall! 

Hulin.  I'd  rather  see  a  few  real  allies.  I  don't 
believe  in  it.  Never  mind,  it  shall  never  be  said  that 
any  one  got  ahead  of  me.  I'll  even  be  the  first  to 
march  against  it.  Perhaps  you  know  better  than  I 
what  must  be  done,  but  I'll  do  it.  So,  you  want  to 
attack  the  Bastille,  you  fools?     Forward! 

HocHE.  By  God,  you  can  do  anything  simply  by 
saying  it's  possible!  [Gonchon  returns  with  his 
patrol.] 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  91 

GoNCHON.  Still  here !  The  damned  vermin  !  Chase 
them  from  one  place  and  they  go  to  another.  So  this 
is  how  you  obey  me?  Didn't  I  command  you  to  go 
home?  [Taking  a  man  by  the  collar.]  You  heard 
me!  I  know  you,  you  were  here  before!  You  rascal, 
I've  had  enough  of  you,  and  I'm  going  to  arrest  you. 
I'll  arrest  you  all.  It's  our  business  to  maintain  order. 
Every  citizen  abroad  at  night  without  a  passport  is 
open  to  suspicion. 

HocHE  [laughing].  The  beast  wants  to  cheat  the 
people ! 

Marat.  Who  is  this  traitor  who  pretends  to  speak 
for  the  People?  By  what  right  does  his  odious  voice 
give  orders  to  the  Nation?  I  know  that  big  fellow, 
with  a  face  like  Silenus,  puffy  from  long  indulgence, 
and  sweating  from  debauchery.  Does  this  monopolist 
believe  he  has  a  monopoly  over  our  Revolution?  Can 
he  lord  it  over  us  as  he  does  over  his  Palais-Royal 
orgies?  Get  out,  or  I  will  arrest  you  in  the  name  of 
the  Sovereign  People! 

GoNCHON  [stammering].  I — ^I  am  the  representa- 
tive of  power.  I  have  been  appointed  by  the  Central 
Committee. 

The  People.  We  are  the  power !  We  appoint  the 
Central  Committee !     You  obey  us ! 

Maeat  [with  an  air  of  ferocity  which  is  at  bottom 
nothing  more  than  a  sinister  buffoonery,  assumed  to 
terrify  Gonchon].  We  must  be  careful  with  these 
traitors,  who  associate  with  the  people  only  in  order 
to  betray  them.  Hoche  has  well  said  that  if  we  are 
not  on  the  lookout,  we  shall  be  overpowered.     I  think 


92  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

that  in  order  to  distinguish  those  who  are  the  valets 
of  the  aristocrats  from  the  others,  we  ought  to  cut 
off  their  ears,  or  rather  their  thumbs.  It  is  a 
prudent  and  indispensable  measure.  [The  People 
laugh.] 

GoNCHON  [tremblingly,  to  Hoche].  Soldier,  it  is 
your  business  to  support  the  law — 

Hoche.  That's  your  business.  They  won't  hurt 
you.     Go  ahead,  we  shall  follow. 

GoNCHON.     Follow  me?     Where? 

Hoche.     To  the  Bastille. 

GoNCHON.     What ! 

Hoche.  Of  course.  We  are  going  to  take  the  Bas- 
tille. Are  you  not  defending  the  people,  you  Bour- 
geois Militia.'*  Then  take  you  places  in  the  front 
ranks.  Fall  in,  and  don't  stop  to  argue.  You  don't 
seemed  pleased  with  the  prospect?  [Speaking  into 
Gonchon's  ear.]  I  know  your  tricks,  old  man;  you 
are  in  communication  with  the  Due  d'Orleans.  Now, 
not  a  word,  and  march  straight  ahead.  I  am  keeping 
my  eye  on  you,  and  I  have  only  to  say  the  word  to 
Marat.  It's  not  day  yet,  and  you  might  light  the  way 
for  us,  hanging  from  one  of  those  lamp-posts ! 

GoNCHON.     Let  me  go  home ! 

Hoche.     Choose :  be  hanged  or  take  the  Bastille. 

GoNCHON  [quickly].  Take  the  Bastille!  [TTie 
People  laugh.] 

Hoche.  Brave  man !  And  now,  the  people  will  not 
allow  the  Montague  Sainte-Genevi^ve  to  outwit  us. 
Let  Saint-Antoine  not  remain  idle  while  Saint-Jacques 
does  her  share!     Ring  your  bells,  beat  your  drums, 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  98 

and  call  out  the  citizens.  [To  the  Electors  and  Depu- 
ties.] You,  citizens,  guard  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and 
see  that  no  treachery  is  done.  Take  charge  of  the 
bourgeois !  Now,  we'll  gag  the  beast.  [Points  to  the 
Bastille.  Little  Julie  has  meanwhile  come  from  the 
house  with  her  mother,  and  stands  in  the  doorway. 
She  then  stands  on  a  post  to  see  better,  and  looks  at 
HocHE  in  silent  and  passionate  admiration.  Hoche 
looks  at  her  and  smiles.]  Well,  little  one,  do  you  want 
to  come,  too.?  Consumed  with  envy,  aren't  you? 
[She  holds  out  her  trembling  arms  to  him,  nodding,  but 
says  nothing.]  Then  come!  [He  takes  her  on  his 
shoulder.] 

The  Mothee.  You're  mad!  Put  her  down! 
You're  not  going  to  take  her  into  the  fight  ? 

HocHE.  She  is  sending  us  into  the  fight!  She  is 
our  standard-bearer ! 

The  Mothee.     Don't  take  her  from  me ! 

HocHE.  You  come,  too,  mother!  No  one  should 
stay  at  home  today.  The  snail  must  come  forth  from 
its  shell.  The  whole  city  is  freed  from  prison  today. 
We  leave  nothing  behind.  This  isn't  an  army  at  war, 
it  is  an  invasion. 

The  Mothee.  Indeed,  it  is.  If  we  must  die,  it's 
better  to  die  all  together. 

Hoche.  Die.?  Nonsense.  You  don't  die  when  you 
expect  death!  [The  sky  begins  to  brighten  behind  the 
houses  and  the  solid  mass  of  the  Bastille.]  At  last! 
Day  is  breaking.     The  new  day,  the  dawn  of  Liberty! 

Julie  [who,  seated  on  Hoche's  shoulders,  has  been 
all  smiles^  excited  and  quiett  and  with  a  finger  to  her 


94  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

lips,  begins  singing  one  of  the  national  songs  of  ths 

day]: 

"  Oh,  come.  Thou  god  of  Liberty 
And  fill  our  souls  this  day — " 

HocHE  \laughing].  Do  you  hear  the  little  spar- 
row? [The  People  laugh.]  Come,  then,  with  light 
hearts.  Let  us  march  ahead  of  the  sun!  [He  takes 
up  Julie's  song,  and  begins  marching.  All  the  People 
join  in  the  song.  A  little  flute  carries  the  air.  Shouts 
and  enthusiastic  cheering  resound;  bells  ring.  Gon- 
CHON  and  his  trembling  Militia  are  urged  on  by  the 
jeering  crowd,  among  which  La  Contat  and  Hulin 
are  distinguished.  Men  and  women  come  forth  from 
the  houses  and  join  the  throng.  A  tempest  of  joy.  As 
the  People  file  off,  Desmoulins,  following  them  a  way, 
returns,  quickly  mounts  the  barricade,  goes  to  Lucile's 
window,  and  looks  in.  During  the  rest  of  the  act,  the 
noise  of  the  crowd  is  heard  in  the  distance.  A  few 
people  continue  to  come  from  the  houses,  but  they  pay 
no  attention  to  the  lovers.] 

Camille  [in  an  undertone].  Lucile!  [The  window 
softly  opens,  and  Lucile  appears,  then  puts  her  arm 
about  Camille's  neck.] 

Lucile.     Camille!     [They  kiss.] 

Camille.     You  were  there !  i 

Lucile.  Sh!  They're  sleeping  in  the  next  room. 
I  was  hidden  in  there.  I  stayed  all  the  while.  I 
heard  and  saw  everything. 

Camille.     Didn't  you  go  to  bed  at  all? 

Lucile.  How  could  I  sleep  with  all  that  noise? 
Oh,  Camille,  how  they  cheered  you ! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  95 

Camille  [pleased].     Did  you  hear  them? 

LuciiiE.  The  windows  shook  with  it.  I  smiled  to 
myself  in  my  corner.  I  wanted  to  shout,  too.  I 
couldn't,  so  I  just  stood  up  on  a  chair — guess  what  I 
did? 

Camille.     How  can  I  guess? 

Ltjcilb.  Gkiess — if  you  love  me.  If  you  didn't 
feel  anything,  then  you  don't  love  me.  What  did  I 
send  you? 

Camille.     Kisses. 

LuciLE.  You  do  love  me!  Yes,  I  idid.  Whole 
basketfuls.  Some  of  them  went  to  those  who  were 
cheering  you.  How  they  cheered !  How  famous  you've 
become,  my  Camille,  in  one  day!  Last  week,  your 
Lucile  was  the  only  person  who  knew  you,  who  realized 
how  great  you  were.     But  today,  a  whole  people — 

Camille.  Listen!  [Thei/  hear  the  joyful  cries  of 
the  People."] 

LuciLE.     That's  all  your  work. 

Camille.     I  can't  believe  it  myself. 

Lucile.  Just  by  what  you  said !  How  did  you  do 
it?  They  told  me  every  one  was  mad  with  excitement. 
I  wish  I  had  been  there ! 

Camille.  I  really  don't  know  what  I  said.  I  felt 
as  if  I  were  lifted  up  into  the  air.  I  heard  my  own 
voice  and  saw  my  gestures  exactly  as  if  they  belonged 
to  some  one  else.  Every  one  cried — and  I  cried  with 
the  rest.  Then  after  I  finished,  they  carried  me  on 
their  shoulders.     I  never  saw  anything  like  it. 

Lucile.  My  great  man,  my  Patru,  my  Demos- 
thenes !     And  you  were  able  to  speak  before  that  great 


96  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

crowd?  Weren't  jou  at  all  nervous?  Didn't  you  for- 
get what  you  were  going  to  say?  You  didn't  do  as 
you — sometimes  do — ? 

Camille.     What? 

LuciLE.  You  know — like — ^like  a  bottle  that's  too 
full — and  the  water  can't  come  out — ?     [She  laughs.] 

Camille.  That's  unkind  of  you!  And  you  show 
your  little  teeth  like  a  cat. 

LuciLE  [laughing].  No,  no,  you  know  I  love  you; 
I  love  you  just  as  you  are.  Don't  be  angry.  I  see 
your  faults,  I  even  look  for  them,  but  I  love  them.  I 
love  your  stammering,  and  I  even  imitate  you.  [They 
laugh.] 

Camille.  Just  see  what  one  day  has  done  to  these 
people !  What  can't  we  expect  of  them  now !  Oh,  my 
Lucile,  what  wonderful  things  we  shall  do  together! 
Now  it's  started,  the  thunderbolt  is  launched;  what  joy 
to  see  it  strike  here  and  there,  and  lay  low  the  ty- 
rants— ^prejudice,  injustice,  laws !  At  last,  we  are 
going  to  smash  these  maggots,  who  with  their  idiotic 
grins,  set  themselves  up  against  everything,  prevent  our 
thinking,  breathing,  our  very  existence !  We  are  going 
to  clean  house,  and  burn  the  old  rags.  No  more  mas- 
ters, no  more  shackles!     How  amusing  it  all  is! 

Lucile.     We  will  rule  Paris  now? 

Camille.     We  will :  Reason  will. 

Lucile.     Hear  their  shouting.     It  makes  me  afraid. 

Camille.     That  is  the  result  of  my  -^ords. 

Lucile.     Do  you  think  they'll  always  listen  to  you? 

Camille.  They  listened  to  me  before  they  knew  me ; 
what  power  I  must  have  now  that   they   adore  me! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  97 

They  are  good  people,  and  when  they  are  at  last  rid  of 
all  the  evils  that  are  bearing  down  on  them,  everything 
will  be  easy  and  joyous.  Oh,  Lucile,  I  am  too  happy! 
It's  all  come  so  suddenly.  No,  I'm  not  too  happy; 
that  is  impossible.  But  I  feel  a  little  intoxicated,  after 
being  so  miserable. 

Lucile.  Poor  Camille!  Were  you  so  very  un- 
happy? 

Camille.  Yes,  I  have  had  a  hard  time,  and  for  so 
long — six  years.  Without  money^  without  friends, 
without  even  hope.  I  was  disowned  by  my  own  people, 
I  had  to  engage  in  the  lowest  professions,  and  turn 
my  hand  to  anything  to  earn  a  few  sous — and  often 
not  getting  them  after  all.  More  than  once  I  went  to 
bed  without  supper.  But  I  don't  want  to  tell  you 
that.     Later  on —     It  was  wrong  of  me. 

Lucile.  Is  it  possible?  Heavens,  why  didn't  you 
come  to — ? 

Camille.  You  would,  I  know,  have  divided  your 
bread  with  me!  That  wasn't  the  worst,  Lucile.  I 
could  do  without  supper,  but  to  doubt  myself,  to  see 
no  future  before  me  I  And  then,  the  sight  of  you,  with 
your  dear  yellow  curls  and  brown  eyes,  in  the  window 
opposite  mine.  How  I  followed  you,  at  a  distance, 
through  the  Luxembourg  Gardens,  admiring  your 
grace,  your  movements!  Ah,  my  dear  little  Lucile, 
you  often  made  me  forget  my  misery,  and  sometimes 
made  it  seem  heavier.  You  were  so  far  from  me! 
How  could  I  hope  that  some  day — ?  But  that  some 
day  is  here — now !  It  can't  escape  me !  I  have  you. 
I  kiss  your  hands !     For  they  have  brought  me  all  the 


98  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

happiness  in  the  world!  The  world  that  Is  freed 
through  me!  How  happy  I  am!  [They  kiss,  and  for 
a  moment  say  nothing.] 

Camille.     You're  crjing? 

LuciLE  [smiling].  So  are  you.  [The  lights  in  the 
windows  are  extinguished.]  The  lights  are  out;  see 
the  dawn!     [The  Crowd  is  heard  outside.] 

Camille  [after  a  moment's  pause].  Do  you  remem- 
ber that  old  English  story  we  read  together?  About 
the  two  children  in  Verona  who  were  in  love  in  that 
town? 

LuciLE  [nodding].     Why  do  you  ask? 

Camille.  I  don't  know.  Who  knows  what  the  fu- 
ture holds  in  store  for  us? 

LuciLE  [putting  her  hand  over  his  mouth].  Ca- 
mille ! 

Camille.  Poor  Lucile,  do  you  think  you  would  be 
strong  enough,  if  ill-fortune — ? 

Lucile.  Who  knows  ?  I  might  if  it  were  necessary. 
But  I'm  afraid  for  you;  you  will  suffer  terribly. 

Camille  [nervously].  You  say  that  as  if  you 
really  thought  it  might  happen? 

Lucile  [smiling] .     You  are  weaker  than  I,  my  hero. 

Camille  [«?ntZ»wgr].  Perhaps.  I  need  love.  I  can't 
live  alone. 

Lucile.     I'll  never  leave  you. 

Camille.  Never !  No  matter  what  happens,  let  us 
have  everything  in  common,  and  let  nothing  separate 
us,  nothing  keep  us —  [A  moment  of  silence.  Lucile 
is  motionless,  her  head  resting  on  his  shoulder.]  Are 
you  asleep? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  99 

LuciLE  [raising  her  head].  No.  [With  a  sigh.] 
God  spare  us  those  trials ! 

Camille  [with  a  skeptical  smile].     God? 

LuciLE  [her  cheek  against  the  window,  and  one  arm 
about  Camille's  neck].     Don't  you  believe  in  God? 

CAMiLiiE.     Not  yet. 

LuciLE.     What  do  you  mean? 

Camille.  We  are  creating  Him  now.  Tomorrow, 
if  I  can  believe  in  what  my  heart  tells  me,  there  will  be 
a  God:  Man.  [Lucile  closes  her  eyes  and  sleeps, 
Camille  says  quietly.]     Lucile! — She's  asleep. 

Robespieree  [coming  across  the  street  and  catching 
sight  of  Camille].     You're  still  here? 

Camille.     Sh ! 

Robespierre.  You  forget  your  duty.  [Camille 
points  to  Lucile. — Robespierre  lowers  his  voice  and 
ZooA;*  of  Lucile.]  Poor  child!  [He  stands  still  a  mo- 
ment, looking  at  the  pair.  The  sound  of  nearby 
drums  awakens  Lucile.  She  catches  sight  of  Robes- 
pierre and  quickly  jumps  up.] 

Lucile.     Oh ! 

Camille.  What's  the  matter,  Lucile?  He  is  our 
friend  Maximilien. 

Robespierre  [bows  io  Lucile].  Didn't  you  recog- 
nize me? 

Lucile  [stUl  trembling] .     You  frightened  me  I 

Robespierre.     I  beg  your  pardon. 

Camille.     You're  trembling. 

Lucile.  I'm  cold.  Good-by,  Camille.  I'm  so 
tired.  I  must  go  to  sleep.  [Camille  smiles  at  her  and 
blows    a   kiss.     Robespierre   bows.    She   disappears. 


100  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

after  bowing  to  the  men.  The  dawn  has  come,  and  the 
sTcy  behind  the  Bastille  is  richly  colored.  In  the  midst 
of  the  far-off  shouting  are  heard  the  first  stray  fusil- 
lades.^ 

Robespierre  [^turning  toward  the  noise^.  Come, 
now.    No  more  love  today.     \^He  goes  out.l 

Camille  [descending  from  the  barricade].  No 
more  love?  What  then?  Is  it  not  love  that  now 
arouses  this  city,  swelling  every  breast,  and  sacrificing 
the  vast  harvest  of  humanity?  Oh,  my  love,  you  are 
not  narrow  and  selfish,  you  bind  me  to  these  men  with 
stronger  bonds.  You  are  everything,  you  embrace  the 
whole  world.  It  is  not  Lucile  alone  I  love,  but  the 
universe.  Through  your  dear  eyes,  I  love  all  who  love, 
who  suffer,  who  are  happy,  who  live,  and  who  die.  I 
love!  I  feel  the  sacred  flame  within  me!  It  colors 
the  eastern  sky  above  the  Bastille.  The  last  shadows 
are  gone,  and  this  will  go,  too,  this  nightmare-shadow ! 
[The  Bastilley  monstrous  and  black,  stands  forth 
against  the  bright  red  sky.  The  voice  of  the  camion 
suddenly  rends  the  silence,  and  reverberates  above  the 
confusion  of  the  -people  in  the  distance,  the  fusillade, 
the  bells,  and  the  roll  of  the  drums.  Camille  smiles, 
and  faces  the  Bastille,  putting  his  finger  to  his  nose.] 
The  wolf  howls,  ha!  Growl,  show  your  teeth!  You 
are  doomed !  Since  the  King  likes  hunting,  let  us  hunt 
the  King! 


ACT  ni 

[Tuesday,  July  14th.  TTie  Interior  Court  of  the  Bas- 
tille. To  the  left  are  seen  the  bases  of  two 
enormous  towers  the  tops  of  which  are  invisible. 
Between  them  are  thick  masses  of  wall,  rising  up 
like  mountains  of  stone.  Opposite  is  the  gate  and 
the  draw-bridge  leading  to  the  Government  Court. 
To  the  right,  a  one-story  structure  standing 
against  the  walls  of  the  other  towers.  As  the  cur- 
tain rises,  the  Pensioner  Bequart  and  his  com- 
panions are  stationed  in  the  Court,  with  three 
cannon.  Vintimille,  commander  of  the  Pen- 
sioners, is  seated,  bored  and  indifferent.  Swiss 
Guards  enter  now  and  then  from  the  draw-bridge 
with  news  of  the  revolt,  which  is  now  heard  outside 
the  other  gate  leading  to  the  Government  Court. 
The  rattle  of  muskets,  cries,  and  the  beating  of 
drums  are  heard  without.  Occasional  smoke 
clouds  rise  above  the  walls. "l 

De  Launey  [Governor  of  the  Bastille,  enters  from 
the  other  court,  nervous  and  agitated].  Well,  Mon- 
sieur de  Vintimille,  you  see?     They  are  attacking! 

Vintimili;e  [zpith  a  touch  of  irony  and  weariness}. 
Well,  Monsieur  de  Launey,  let  them  attack.  What  is 
it  to  us?  Unless  they  have  wings,  like  the  Messieurs 
Montgolfier,  I  defy  them  to  make  their  way  in. 

101 


102  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

The  Pensioners   [^among  themselves].     Good  God! 

Bequaet.  Poor  devils,  they'll  be  ground  to  bits: 
Not  one  will  be  left  living.  Those  damned  Swiss  keep 
firing  on  them.  It's  wrong  to  shoot  down  defenseless 
people  like  that!  Especially  when  you  are  in  a  fort 
behind  good  solid  walls. 

A  Pensioner.     Tell  me,  why  are  they  attacking  us.** 

Bequart.  Can't  tell  what's  come  over  them  at  all. 
Not  like  it  used  to  be.  Don't  understand.  They're 
all  mad,  this  last  month  especially.  Well,  anyway, 
it's  too  bad  to  treat  them  like  that.  They're  not  bad. 
They're  people  like  us. 

Pensioner.  Well,  it's  the  order.  So  much  the 
worse.     They  had  no  business  doing  it. 

Bequart.  Of  course.  And  it's  fine  to  hear  that 
music !     I  never  thought  I'd  live  to  see  another  battle. 

De  Flue  [Commander  of  the  Swiss  Guards,  entering 
from  the  other  court].  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,  will 
you  please  burn  the  houses  in  the  neighborhood?  They 
can  shoot  into  the  court  from  the  roofs. 

De  Launey.  No,  I  can't  burn  private  property. 
I  have  no  right. 

De  Flue.  War  without  incendiarism  is  like  eel 
without  mustard.  Very  good  of  you  to  have  these 
scruples !  But  when  you  make  war,  you  must  stop  at 
nothing,  or  else  never  begin. 

De  Launey.  What  do  you  think,  Monsieur  de 
Vintimille  ? 

Vintimille  [ztfith  a  shrug].  It  makes  no  difference 
to  me.  Do  as  you  like.  They'll  never  come  in  here. 
But  if  you  care  to  profit  by  the  occasion  to  clean  out 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  lOS 

the  quarter,  together  with  those  idiots  who  meet  there, 
don't  hesitate.  Do  as  you  like;  it's  a  matter  of  no 
importance. 

De  Launey.  Let  us  wait;  there  is  no  immediate 
hurry.  We  have  plenty  of  men  and  ammunition;  we 
are  not  yet  reduced  to  extremes.     Are  we,  old  Bequart  ? 

Bequart.  We're  safe  till  the  Last  Judgment,  Mon- 
sieur le  Gouverneur.  I  served  under  Monsieur  de 
Chevert  at  Prague  forty-seven  years  ago.  The  Mar- 
shal de  Belle-Isle  stationed  us  there.  We  were  a  hand- 
ful in  the  enemy's  country;  we  were  short  of  every- 
thing, and  even  the  city  was  against  us.  They  could 
never  have  dislodged  us.  And  here  we  have  only  a 
rabble  of  women  and  shopkeepers,  with  solid  walls  be- 
tween us,  and  the  troops  of  the  Champ  de  Mars  and 
Sevres  only  a  step  away.  We  can  smoke  our  pipes 
and  sit  with  crossed  legs. 

De  Flue.  The  moment  you  think  you're  quiet,  these 
frogs  of  Parisians  fly  at  your  throat.  Throw  a  few 
stones  at  them  and  you'll  see  them  jump  back  in  their 
pond  soon  enough. 

De  Launey.     Don't  anger  them  too  much. 

De  Flue.  Give  the  rascals  an  inch  and  they'll  take 
a  mile.     Hang  the  vagabond,  or  he  will  hang  you. 

Bequaet.  They're  only  poor  devils.  Monsieur  de 
Flue.  You  mustn't  be  too  hard  on  them.  They  really 
don't  realize  what  they  are  doing. 

De  Flue.  God,  if  they  don't,  I  do!  And  that's 
enough. 

De  Launey.  You  are  thinking  only  of  the  success 
of  your  battle.  Monsieur  de  Flue.     It's  another  matter 


104  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

for  me:  I  must  think  of  the  consequences.  The  re- 
sponsibility is  on  my  shoulders.  How  do  I  know  what 
will  please  or  displease  the  Court.  How  do  I  know 
what  it  wishes  me  to  do? 

De  Flue.  Do  you  not  know  an  enemy  of  the  King 
when  you  see  him?  Are  we  not  here  by  order  of  His 
Majesty?  If  we  are  attacked,  is  it  not  His  Majesty 
who  is  attacked? 

De  Launey.  No  one  can  be  quite  sure;  His  Maj- 
esty is  never  quite  sure  himself.  His  enemies  one  day 
are  his  friends  the  next.  I  have  either  no  orders  at 
all,  or  else  they  are  contradictory.  Some  tell  me  to 
resist  to  the  end;  others  tell  me  not  to  fire.  Provost 
Flesselles  confided  to  me  that  he  is  with  me  and  that 
he  is  deceiving  the  people.  He  tells  the  people  he  is 
with  them  and  is  betraying  me.  Whom  is  he  betray- 
ing? How  can  I  be  assured  I  am  not  displeasing  the 
Court  while  I  serve  it,  and  know  that  it  is  not  laying 
the  blame  on  me?  If  it  wishes  to  do  something,  has  it 
not  a  thousand  ways  of  doing  so  ?  Why  does  not  Mon- 
sieur de  Breteuil,  with  his  Champ  de  Mars  troops, 
attack  these  insurrectionists  from  the  rear? 

De  FiiUE.  Wonderful!  What  a  time  they  would 
have! 

ViNTiMiLLE  [to  DE  Launey].  My  dear  fellow,  yours 
be  the  victory!  You  are  always  right.  [He  goes  to 
a  corner  and  sits  in  the  shadow.] 

Bequai^t  [who  brings  him  a  chair] .  Monseigneur, 
you  are  never  quite  your  old  sprightly  self  on  days  of 
battle. 

ViNTiMiLiiE.     They  weary  me  with  their  continual 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  105 

discussions.  [Poi/nting  to  de  Launey.]  He  never 
knows  what  he  wants ;  he  must  always  consult  every  one, 
and  get  every  one  into  embarrassing  predicaments. 
What  am  I  doing  with  such  a  vacillating  person.-* 
They've  given  me  a  nasty  task.  There's  no  honor  or 
pleasure  to  be  derived  from  these  squabbles.  It's  the 
business  of  the  police  to  put  down  the  people ! 

BEauART.  It's  not  very  pleasant  to  have  to  fire  on 
the  poor  devils. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  You're  becoming  sentimental!  Well, 
it's  the  fashion  of  the  day,  I  suppose.  Listen  to  the 
skunks  out  there !     Disgusting.     What  do  they  want  ? 

Bequaet.     Bread. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Do  they  imagine  the  Bastille  is  a 
bakery.''  There  they  go  again!  They  are  in  earnest. 
They  seem  most  anxious  to  live.  I  wonder  what  in- 
terest they  have  in  life.?  Their  only  pleasures  are  sour 
wine  and  unwashed  women! 

Bequart.  You  know,  Monseigneur,  that  no  matter 
how  little  one  has  to  live  for,  one  always  clings  to  life. 

ViNTiMiLLE.     Oh,  really.?    Speak  for  yourself! 

Bequaet.  Oh,  but  you  have  everything  to  be  de- 
sired. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Do  you  euvy  me?  Nothing  in  it,  my 
boy. 

Bequaet.     Nothing  in  it? 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Does  that  surprise  you  ?  You  couldn't 
understand.  Nothing!  It  is  just  the  July  sun — it 
makes  me  pessimistic. 

A  Swiss  GuAED  [entering  from  the  other  court — to 
DE  Launey].     Monseigneur,  they  are  firing  from  the 


106  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

neighboring  houses.     Some  of  them  are  perched  on  the 
roofs. 

De  Flue.  Well,  knock  them  off.  It's  only  child's 
plaj  for  marksmen  like  you.  [Outside,  Hoche  is 
heard  singing  the  refrain  of  the  song  swng  in  the  Sec- 
ond Act] : 

"  Oh,  come,  thou  God  of  Liberty, 
And  fill  our  souls  this  day — " 

Swiss  Guaeds  [outside].  Forward!  To  the  Gt)v- 
ernor ! 

De  Flue.     What's  the  trouble.? 

Swiss  Guaeds  [entering  from  the  exterior  court, 
driving  in  Hoche,  mth  Julie  on  his  shoulders.] 
Commander,  we  caught  this — ^just  as  he  was  jumping 
over  the  outer  wall. 

Hoche  [setting  Julie  on  the  ground].  There  you 
are !  And  here  we  are !  I  told  you  you  would  be  the 
first  to  enter ! 

Julie  [joining  her  hands  ecstatically].  The  Bas- 
tille! 

ViNTiMiLLE.  I  don't  see  the  joke.''  [They  form  a 
circle  about  the  newcomers.] 

Hoche  [quietly].  Commander,  we  are  envoys. 
[The  Soldiers  laugh.] 

De  Launey.     Strange  envoys ! 

Hoche.  We  have  no  choice.  We've  been  signaling 
to  you,  but  you  refused  to  see  us.  We  jumped  over 
the  wall;  that  was  the  only  way  to  reach  you. 

Julie  [going  to  the  Swiss  Guards].  Here  they 
are! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  107 

Swiss  Guaeds.     What  do  you  want,  little  brat? 

Julie.     Are  you  the  prisoners? 

Swiss  Guards  [laughing].  Prisoners?  No,  we 
guard  the  prisoners. 

HocHE.  You  are  not  so  very  much  mistaken. 
They,  too,  are  prisoners,  and  more  to  be  pitied  than 
the  others.     They  have  lost  even  the  desire  for  liberty. 

De  Launey.     Who  is  this  child? 

HocHE.  Our  good  genius.  She  begged  me  to  take 
her  with  me.     I  carried  her  on  my  back. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Are  you  out  of  your  head  to  expose  the 
child  to  such  danger? 

HocHE.  Why  should  she  not  share  our  risks?  She 
is  sure  to  die  if  we  die.  Don't  pretend  to  pity  her; 
your  cannon  have  no  such  scruples. 

ViNTiMiLLE  [with  his  accustomed  coldness  and 
irony] .  A  soldier !  A  petty  officer  who  has  deserted ! 
So  this  is  the  envoy  they  send  us?  Capital!  Well, 
shoot  him.     That  will  end  his  mission. 

De  Launey.  One  moment.  It  might  be  well  to 
find  out  what  they  want. 

ViNTiMiLLE.     They  have  nothing  to  ask  for. 

De  Flue.     You  don't  parley  with  insurrectionists. 

De  Launey.     Well,  let  us  see :  it  costs  nothing. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Ridiculous.  If  we  allowed  them  to 
discuss  matters  we  might  seem  to  be  accepting  them  as 
equals. 

De  Launey.  What  shameless  aberration  led  you  to 
accept  this  mission? 

Hoche.  The  idea  of  serving  both  my  friends  and 
you. 


108  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Do  you  realize  what  you  have  done? 
Do  you  know  what  a  traitor  is? 

HocHE.  Yes,  Monseigneur.  He  who  takes  up 
arms  against  his  people. 

ViNTiMiLiiE  [turns  his  back  Toith  a  shrug^.     Fool! 

HocHE.  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  not  intend  to  insult 
you.  On  the  contrary,  I  come  as  a  friend.  I  was  told 
I  would  be  shot.  Possibly  I  shall,  but  really  I  should 
be  surprised.  I  have  come  to  try  to  help  you  to  ar- 
range matters.  But  if  I  am  shot,  well,  you  know  the 
proverb:  "A  fine  death  compensates  for  a  whole  life." 

De  Launey.     What  is  your  message? 

HocHE  [presenting  a  letter].  From  the  Permanent 
Committee  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  [De  Launey 
takes  the  letter,  stands  to  one  side,  with  two  oncers, 
reading  it.  The  Pensioners  hold  Julie  on  their 
knees. 1 

BiauART.  Why  did  you  take  it  into  your  head  to 
come,  little  one?     Do  you  know  some  one  here? 

JuiiiE.     I  know  a  great  many. 

Bequart.     Where? 

Julie.     In  the  prison. 

Bequart.  You  have  nice  acquaintances!  Who? 
Relatives  ? 

Julie.     No. 

Bequart.     What  are  their  names? 

Julie.     I  don't  know. 

BiauART.  You  don't  know?  What  do  they  look 
like? 

Julie.     I  couldn't  say. 

Bequart.     Are  you  making  fun  of  us? 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  109 

Julie.  No,  no,  I  know  them  very  well:  I've  seen 
them.     Only,  I  can't  say — 

Bequakt.     Tell  us. 

Julie.  Mamma  lives  in  the  Rue  Saint- Antoine,  near 
here.  The  carriages  that  go  to  the  prison  pass  our 
house  at  night.  I  get  up  and  see  them — I  see  nearly 
all.  But  sometimes  I  miss  them,  and  when  I  wake  up, 
they've  already  passed. 

Bequaet.     Why  did  you  want  to  see  them.? 

Julie.     Because  they  suffer. 

Bequart.  It's  not  very  pleasant  to  see  people  who 
suffer.     Why  do  you  want  to  see  them? 

Julie  [naively].     Because  it  makes  me  sad. 

A  Pensionee  [laughingl.  There's  a  reason  for 
you! 

Bequart.     Shut  up !    You  fool ! 

The  Pensioner  [angry  at  first].  Fool?  [He  re- 
flects a  moment,  scratching  his  head.]     True,  though! 

Julie  [who  sits  down  and  plays  with  a  cannon]. 
You're  not  going  to  fire  on  us,  are  you?  [They  do 
not  answer.]  Tell  me  you  won't.  Please.  I  like  you. 
You  must  like  me. 

Bequart  [kissing  her].     Good  little  thing! 

De  Launey  [shrugs  his  shoulders,  after  reading  the 
letter].  This  is  unheard-of!  Messieurs,  this  strange 
message  which  has  been  delivered  to  me  by  some  com- 
mittee of  tramps — this — this  Permanent  Committee, 
asks  me  to  divide  the  guard  of  the  Bastille  between  the 
rest  of  our  own  troops  and  the  people!  [The  Soldiers 
laugh,  the  officers  rage.] 

ViNTiMiLLE.     Charming  proposal ! 


110  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HocHE  [to  DE  Launey].  Listen  to  me,  Monsei- 
gneur.  You  can  prevent  the  carnage.  We  hold  noth- 
ing against  you  personally,  but  against  this  mass  of 
stone,  which  has  for  centuries  weighed  heavy  on  the 
people  of  Paris.  Blind  power  is  no  less  shameful  to 
those  who  impose  it  than  for  those  against  whom  it  is 
directed.  It  is  disgusting  to  every  one  who  reasons. 
You  who  are  more  intelligent  than  we,  ought  to  feel 
that  and  suffer  more  than  we.  Help  us,  do  not  fight 
against  us.  Reason,  for  which  we  are  fighting,  is  as 
much  your  own  as  ours.  Give  up  this  prison  of  your 
own  accord ;  don't  force  us  to  capture  it. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  There  he  is  spouting  about  reason  and 
conscience.  These  Rousseau  monkeys.  [To  de  Flue.] 
My  compliments !     You  made  us  a  pretty  present ! 

De  Flue.     What  present.? 

Vintimille.  Your  Jean-Jacques.  You  might  at 
least  have  kept  him  in  Switzerland. 

De  Flue.  We  would  have  been  glad  to  dispense 
with  him  ourselves. 

De  Launey  [to  Hoche].  You  are  crazy.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  the  stronger  relinquishing  their  arms,  from 
sheer  good-heartedness,  to  the  weaker? 

Hoche.     You  are  not  the  stronger. 

De  Launey.  Do  you  think  these  brave  men,  these 
twenty  cannon,  twenty  chests  of  bullets,  and  thousands 
of  rounds  of  ammunition,  are  nothing.'' 

Hoche.  You  may  kill  a  few  hundred  men.  But 
what  will  that  avail  you.**  They  will  return  thousands 
strong. 

De  Launey.     We  shall  be  re-inforced. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  HI 

HocHE.  You  will  not  be  re-inforced.  You  might 
have  been,  but  you  were  not.  A  king  cannot  murder 
his  people;  it  would  be  not  only  murder  but  suicide. 
I  tell  you,  you  will  be  overcome.  You  display  your 
artillery;  you  are  used  to  the  old-fashioned  warfare, 
but  you  do  not  know  the  way  we  fight.  You  do  not 
know  what  a  freed  nation  is.  War  is  only  a  game  for 
you,  because  your  hearts  are  not  in  it.  Since  Mal- 
plaquet,  no  one  has  taken  an  interest  in  the  Patrie. 
You  were  friends  of  the  enemy  you  fought,  and  were 
glad  of  the  success  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  Victory 
is  not  a  necessity  for  you.  But  we  have  no  choice: 
we  must  conquer.  [To  the  Pensioners.^  Comrades, 
I  know  you  well,  and  I  respect  you;  you  are  fine  old 
fellows.  But  when  you  fought,  you  were  merely  obey- 
ing orders ;  you  do  not  know  what  it  means  to  fight  for 
yourself.  [To  Bequabt.]  You  yourself.  Father  Be- 
quart — we  all  love  you  and  admire  your  bravery — 
when  you  were  at  Prague,  shut  up  with  the  enemy,  you 
only  defended  your  skin.  We  are  fighting  for  our 
souls,  and  the  souls  of  our  sons  and  all  the  rest  who 
will  come  after  us.  Do  you  hear  the  crowd  outside.^ 
They  are  only  a  small  part  of  our  forces.  Millions, 
all  mankind  to  come,  fight  in  our  ranks,  and  make  up 
that  formidable  and  invisible  mass  which  wins  battles. 

De  Flue.  You  make  me  tired.  We'll  sweep  those 
invisible  masses  off  the  earth  with  a  few  cannon-shots. 

HocHE.  Do  not  fire.  If  you  do,  you  are  lost.  A 
people  is  not  a  regular  army;  you  can't  let  it  loose 
without  dire  consequences. 

ViNTiMiiiLE    [to   himself,   as   he   looks   at   Hoche]. 


112  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

Strange  men!  How  came  our  France  to  breed  such 
creatures?  They  are  Germans.  Germans?  No.  I 
have  known  Prussians  more  French  than  this  one. 
Who  has  wrought  this  change? 

HocHE.  Remember,  there  is  still  chance  for  coming 
to  an  understanding;  in  a  short  while,  that  chance  will 
be  lost.  The  moment  you  draw  blood,  it  will  be  too 
late. 

De  Flue.  You  had  better  give  this  advice  to  your 
friends. 

HocHE  [with  a  shrug,  to  Julie].  Come,  little 
pigeon,  they  refuse  your  olive  branch.  [He  takes 
Julie  on  his  shoulder.] 

De  Launey  [to  Hoche].  Nothing  can  conquer  the 
Bastille.     It  may  be  surrendered,  but  never  taken. 

Hoche.     It  will  be  surrendered. 

De  Launey.     And  who  will  surrender  it? 

Hoche.  Your  evil  conscience!  [Hoche  goes  out 
with  Julie,  amid  a  general  silence.  No  one  thinks  of 
stopping  him.] 

ViNTiMiLLE  [reflectively].     Our  evil  conscience! 

De  Launey  [suddenly].  Well!  Why  did  we  let 
him  go? 

De  Flue.     He  is  still  in  the  court. 

De  Launey.     Run  after  him  and  stop  him ! 

Bequart.     Monseigneur,  it  is  impossible.       • 

The  Pensioners  [grunting  assent].  He's  an  en- 
voy. 

De  Launey.  Impossible,  you  rascal !  Envoy  from 
whom? 

Bbquaet  [gravely].     The  people, 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  113 

De  Flue  [to  the  Swiss  Guards].     Arrest  him! 

Bequaet  and  the  Pexsionees  [to  the  Szciss  Guards], 
No,  comrades,  not  that!     Don't  arrest  him! 

A  Swiss  Guard  [trying  to  pass].  That  was  the 
command. 

Bequaet  and  the  Pensionees.  Don't  you  dare  go, 
or  you'll  have  us  to  deal  with! 

Vintimille  [watching  them,  aside].  Ah,  ha! 
[Aloud.]  Good!  [To  de  Launey.]  Don't  insist. 
■  A  Swiss  GxJard  [entering  from  the  exterior  court,  to 
DE  Launey].  Monseigneur,  there  is  an  immense  crowd 
coming  out  of  the  Rue  Saint-Antoine.  They  have 
taken  the  Invalides,  and  are  dragging  along  twenty 
cannon. 

De  Flue.  The  devil !  But  we  must  decide  now,  or 
everything  will  be  spoiled.  Let  us  rout  the  band,  or 
they  will  defeat  us.  [Great  clouds  of  smoke  roll  up 
above  the  outer  walls.] 

De  Launey.     What  is  that  smoke? 

A  Swiss  Guaed.  They've  fired  the  outlying  build- 
ings. 

De  Launey.  Scoundrels!  So  they  want  a  pitiless 
warfare.?     They  shall  have  it. 

De  Flue.     Shall  we  fire.'' 

De  Launey.     Wait — 

De  Flue.     For  what,  in  the  name  of  God.? 

De  Launey  [with  a  questioning  look  at  Vintimille]. 
Monsieur  de  Vintimille. 

Vintimille  [rather  scornfully]^  I  told  you  what  I 
thought.  Do  as  you  like.  One  word  of  advice:  what- 
ever you  decide  on,  don't  change  it. 


114  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

De  Laujiey.  You  have  a  free  hand,  Monsieur  de 
Flue.  Give  it  to  them!  [De  Launey,  de  Flue,  and 
the  Swiss  Guards  go  out  into  the  other  court.] 

ViNTiMiLLE  [meditates  with  an  ironical  smile.  A  few 
steps  from  him,  the  Pensioners  are  guarding  the  can- 
non.] Our  evil  conscience!  The  corporal  thinks  he 
has  a  right  to  a  conscience !  He's  richer  than  I.  Con- 
science! It  is  neither  good  nor  bad.  It  simply  does 
not  exist.  Honor,  yes.  Honor?  Under  the  late 
King,  honor  consisted  in  scheming  for  him  to  take  one's 
wife  or  sister — provided  they  were  presentable — for 
a  mistress,  or  else  in  marrying  the  titled  courtesan — 
honor!  And  now  to  have  it  barked  at  by  this  brothel- 
whelp.  Let  us  not  trouble  honor.  Really,  I  don't 
know  why  I  am  fighting  here.  Loyalty?  Fidelity  to 
the  King?  We  are  too  used  to  clear  thinking  to  be 
deceived  by  empty  phrases.  I  have  not  believed  in  the 
King  for  many  a  long  year.  Well,  then  ?  [He  shrugs 
his  shoulders.]  Habit,  manners,  fashion?  We  know 
we  are  wrong,  we  do  not  believe  in  what  we  are  doing, 
and  yet  we  must  go  through  it  to  the  end  and  behave 
correctly,  elegantly,  in  order  to  conceal  the  utter  use- 
lessness  of  our  existence.  [Great  confusion  outside. 
The  Swiss  Guards  suddenly  rush  hack  with  de  Flue 
and  DE  Launey  from  the  exterior  court.] 

The  Swiss  Guards.     They  are  coming! 

ViNTiMiLLE.  What!  Who  are  coming?  The  peo- 
ple?    Impossible! 

De  Flue  [without  troubling  to  answer].  Quick! 
Up  with  the  draw-bridge !     God  Almighty ! 

De  Launey.     To  the  cannon!     [The  Swiss  Guards 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  115 

quickly  raise  the  draw-bridge.  The  Pensioners  roU 
the  cannon  into  place  opposite  the  gate.  Immediately/ 
after,  the  Crowd  is  heard  shouting  and  muttering  like 
an  angry  sea,  just  outside. 

ViNTiMiLLE  [stupefied].     Are  they  in!     Reallj? 

De  Flue  [puffing].  Just  in  time!  The  damned 
rascals!  [To  Vintimille.]  Would  you  believe  they 
could  have  torn  down  the  outer  draw-bridge?  You 
know  the  perfumer's  house  next  to  the  outer  gate?  I 
told  you,  we  ought  to  have  burned  all  those  houses! 
There  were  three  or  four  of  them  on  the  roof — car- 
penters, masons — well,  they  scaled  that  wall  like  mon- 
keys and  got  to  the  roof  of  the  guard-house.  No  one 
was  watching  the  place.  They  got  to  the  gate,  broke 
the  chains,  and  the  bridge  fell  right  into  the  midst  of 
the  crowd,  knocking  a  dozen  of  them  flat.  You  should 
have  seen  them  scramble  and  shout !  The  nasty  scoun- 
drels !  [The  confusion  among  soldiers  and  officers  hag 
up  to  the  present  concealed  a  group  of  Szoiss  Guards 
some  distance  away,  who  bring  in  a  woman  prisoner.] 

Swiss  Guards  [with  La  Contat  in  their  midst.] 
We've  made  a  good  capture. 

ViNTiMiLiiE  [bowing].  Why,  it's  you,  Contat? 
You  come  to  the  rendezvous,  I  see!  A  silver  helmet 
over  your  blonde  hair,  musket  in  hand;  why,  you  look 
like  the  goddess  of  Liberty  herself.  So  you  were  curi- 
ous to  come  and  see  for  yourself?  You  will  be  safe 
here,  and  may  look  around  without  danger.  [He  ex- 
tends his  hand  to  her,  but  she  hesitates  to  take  it.] 
You  won't  shake  hands?  We  were  good  friends  not 
very  long  ago.     Are  we  not  still?     [She  decides   to 


116  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

shake  hands.]  Well,  what's  the  matter?  You  look 
at  me  with  those  great  eyes  of  yours,  and  you  don't 
say  a  word?     Are  you  afraid? 

La  Contat.  I — I  beg  your  pardon.  I  hardly 
know  where  I  am,  and  I  am  not  sure  whether  to  consider 
you  as  a  friend  or  an  enemy. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  An  enemy?  But  why?  Really,  were 
you  fighting  us? 

La  Contat.  You  know,  it's  not  in  my  character  to 
be  a  spectator;  I  must  always  play  important  parts. 
[She  shows  her  musJcet,  which  a  Pensioner  takes  from 
her  at  a  sign  from  Vintimille.] 

ViNTiMiLLE.  You  Were  tired  of  playing  comedy,  and 
you  decided  to  turn  to  drama.  But  do  you  realize,  my 
dear,  that  your  little  escapade  has  put  you  in  danger 
of  spending  a  few  months  in  Fort-1'Eveque? 

La  Contat.     I  risked  far  more  than  that. 

Vintimille.  But  you  were  not  in  earnest,  Contat? 
You  one  of  these  brawlers?  [He  scrutinizes  her  from 
head  to  foot.]  No  rouge,  no  beauty-spots.  Your 
hands  black — face  streaming  with  perspiration — your 
hair  wet,  sticking  to  your  cheeks.  You're  breathing 
hard.  Muddy  to  the  knees !  Covered  with  filth  and 
powder !  What's  happened  to  you  ?  Why,  I  know  you 
well,  and  I  am  sure  you  never  liked  that  filthy  rabble 
any  more  than  I. 

La  Contat.     No,  I  didn't. 

Vintimille.  A  love-affair,  then?  Is  he  in  that 
crowd  ? 

La  Contat.  I  thought  it  was  that  at  first.  But 
there  is  something  else. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  117 

ViNTIMILLE.       What  ? 

La  Contat.  I  do  not  know.  I  couldn't  tell  you 
exactly  why  I  am  fighting:  but  I  felt  it  not  long  ago. 
I  was  ready  to  cut  your  throat. 

ViNTIMILLE  [laughing].  You  always  liked  to  ex- 
aggerate. 

La  Contat.     I  am  not  joking  now. 

ViNTIMILLE.  But,  Contat,  you  are  a  woman  of 
sense ;  you  don't  do  things  without  a  reason  ? 

La  Contat.  I  have  a  reason,  but  I  can't  explain  it 
now.  A  few  moments  ago  it  was  so  powerful,  so  clear 
to  me.  The  feelings  of  those  people  thrill  me,  like  the 
roll  of  thunder.  Now  that  I  am  separated  from  them, 
I  don't  know,  I  don't  know  what — 

ViNTIMILLE.     You  Were  mad.     Confess  it. 

La  Contat.     No,  no :  I  am  sure  they  are  right. 

ViNTIMILLE.  Right  to  rebel  against  the  King,  kill 
people,  and  die  for  a  nothing? 

La  Contat.     They  are  not  dying  for  nothing, 

ViNTIMILLE.  No,  of  course  not :  for  Monsieur  d'Or- 
Mans'  ecus! 

La  Contat.  My  dear,  you're  the  same  as  ever :  you 
always  minimize  one's  motives. 

ViNTIMILLE.  Money  is  not  a  small  motive  to  vaga- 
bonds who  have  none.  Can  you  give  me  a  better 
motive? 

La  Contat.     Liberty. 

ViNTIMILLE.     What  is  that? 

La  Contat.  I  don't  like  your  ironical  smile.  When 
you  look  at  me  that  way,  I  don't  know  what  to  say. 
Even  if  I  did,  I  shouldn't  say  it.     It  would  be  useless: 


118  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

you  could  never  understand.  You  may  at  least  listen, 
and  watch. 

The  People  [outside].     We  want  the  Bastille! 

ViNTiMiLLE  \_coldly].     Yes,  it's  curious,  very  curious. 

De  Launey  [in  consternation].  What  the  devil  is 
urging  those  idiots  on? 

The  Pensionees  [looking  with  mingled  interest  and 
sympathy  through  the  loop-holes  in  the  gate].  Wom- 
en ! — Priests ! — Bourgeois ! — Soldiers ! — There,  there's 
that  little  girl  on  Hiriin's  shoulders. — She's  kicking  her 
feet  like  a  little  devil ! 

De  Flue  [talking  to  the  Swiss  Guards].  Good. 
They're  caught  in  a  trap  now,  between  the  walls.  We 
can  get  at  them  from  the  towers. 

De  Launey.  Clear  the  court!  Smash  them!  [De 
Flue  and  the  Guards  run  into  the  Bastille  through  the 
gate  leading  to  the  towers.] 

Bequaet  and  the  Pensioners  [murmuring].  It's 
going  to  be  a  butchery ! — They're  hardly  armed.  And 
those  children — ! 

The  People.  We  want  the  Bastille !  [La  Contat 
and  ViNTiMiLLE  have  not  followed  de  Flue's  and  de 
Launey's  conversation.  La  Contat's  attention  is 
wholly  occupied  with  the  People,  as  she  listens  to  their 
shouting.] 

La  Contat  [shouting  to  the  people  outside] .  Cour- 
age} I  am  the  first  to  take  it!  [The  beat  of  drums 
is  now  heard.] 

Bequaet  and  the  Pensionees  [looking  out].  They 
want  to  parley  again:  they're  waving  handkerchiefs, 
signaling  to  us. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  119 

ViKTiMiLLE  [also  looJctng  out].  The  Attorney  is 
leading  them. 

De  Launey.     Let's  see  what  they  want. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Cease  firing!  [The  Pensioners  throw 
down  their  muskets.  The  drums  are  heard  heating  near 
the  moat.  Vintimille  and  some  of  the  Pensioners  go 
up  to  the  right  of  the  gate  toward  an  opening  in  the 
wall  from  which  they  can  overlook  the  assailants. 
Vintimille  addresses  the  people.]  What  do  you 
want?  [At  the  same  moment  a  volley  is  fired  from  the 
upper  part  of  the  towers.  Vintimille  turns.]  What 
the  devil  are  they  doing? 

The  Pensioners  and  De  Lal'ney  [astonished]. 
The  Swiss  Guards  are  firing! — Stop  them!  Stop 
them !     [Some  run  to  the  tower  gate  and  disappear.] 

Vintimille  [having  descended  again  into  the  court]. 
Too  late !  Pretty  piece  of  work  they've  done !  Listen 
to  those  cries !  They  aimed  well.  They  think  we  fired 
from  a  secret  hiding-place.  [The  People  howl  with 
rage.  Vintimille  turns  and  sees  La  Contat,  who  has 
come  up  behind  him  and  looks  at  him  with  hatred  in 
her  eyes.]  What's  the  trouble,  Contat?  [She  does 
not  answer^  hut  suddenly  seizes  Vintimille's  sword, 
snatches  it  from  the  scahhard,  and  attempts  to  stah 
him.  The  Pensioners  seize  her  hands  and  hold  her  in 
spite  of  her  heroic  struggle  to  free  herself.]  So  you 
wanted  to  kill  me !  [La  Contat  nods.  She  keeps  her 
eyes  fixed  on  him,  and  to  the  end  of  scene  cannot  utter 
a  word,  hut  trembles  convulsively,  panting  like  a  beast.] 
You  aren't  sane.  What's  happened?  I  have  done  noth- 
ing to  you.     You  know  they  acted  contrary  to  orders. 


120  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

You  yourself  saw —  Don't  you  recognize  me,  Contat? 
[She  nods.]  Do  you  really  hate  me?  [She  nods  as 
before.]  Speak  to  me?  Won't  you  say  a  word? 
[He  attempts  to  touch  her,  hut  she  pulls  hack,  and 
struggles  again  with  the  soldiers,  who  hold  her  hands. 
She  then  falls  hack  in  a  sort  of  epileptic  fit,  screaming 
and  moaning.  They  carry  her  off.  Her  cries  are  still 
heard.     Outside,  the  People  are  screaming.] 

De  Launey  [in  consternation].  She's  like  a  wild 
animal.     You  would  not  recognize  her. 

ViNTiMiLLE.  She  is  not  herself.  Something  strange 
and  new  is  in  her:  the  poison  of  that  mob.  It's  too 
disgusting.  I  can't  understand  it.  It's  like  a  wind 
of  bestiality  blown  from  the  monstrous  part  of  human- 
ity. [The  Swiss  Guards  descend  from  the  towers  with 
De  Flue.] 

De  Launey  [very  much  excited,  goes  to  meet  De 
Flue].  What  have  you  done?  What  have  you 
done  ? 

De  Flue  [fuming].  By  God,  I  did  what  you  told 
me  to  do !  You  ordered  me  to  smash  them,  and  I  have 
smashed  them.  It  seems  you've  changed  your  mind, 
and  you  want  peace.  What  the  devil  do  you  want  me 
to  do? 

De  Launey.     We're  lost  now. 

De  Flue.  Lost?  [He  shrugs  his  shoulders,  and 
motions  to  his  Guards  to  roll  the  cannon  into  position.] 

Bequaet  and  the  Pensionees.  What  are  you 
doing? 

The  Swiss  Guards.  Three  volleys  and  the  court 
will  be  empty. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  121 

Bequaet  arid  the  Pensioners.  You're  not  going  to 
fire? 

The  Swiss  Guaeds.     Why  not? 

Bequart.  Into  the  mob?  It  would  be  nothing  but 
massacre! 

The  Swiss  Guards.     What's  that  to  us  ? 

BEauART.  They  are  our  relatives,  Frenchmen  like 
the  rest  of  us.  Put  that  cannon  back,  and  don't  dare 
fire. 

The  Swiss  Guards.  Get  out  of  our  way.  Let  us 
pass!     [They  knock  Bequart  out  of  the  way.] 

The  Pensioners.  Damned  Germans !  [They  cross 
bayonets.] 

The  Swiss  Guards.  Knock  them  down!  These 
battered  scarecrows !     They  can't  frighten  us ! 

Bequart.  If  you  advance,  I'll  fire.  [He  takes  aim. 
ViNTiMiLLE  and  de  FiiUE  stand  between  them.] 

De  Flue.  Down  with  your  weapons!  Down,  by 
God!     [He  beats  them  with  his  cane.] 

ViNTiMiLLE.     Snarling  dogs ! 

De  Launey  [at  his  wits^  end].  They  too  are  in  re- 
volt !  They  won't  fight  now !  All  is  lost !  [He  rushes 
toward  the  citadel  and  tries  to  enter.] 

ViNTiMiiiLE  [stopping  him].     Where  are  you  going? 

De  Launey  [in  desperation].  To  die!  But  they 
will  die  with  us ! 

ViNTiMiLLE.     What  are  you  going  to  do? 

De  Launey.  To  the  basements !  Tons  of  powder ! 
Set  it  off! 

The  Pensioners.     Don't  do  that ! 

De  Launey.    I  will! 


122  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

ViNTiMiLLE.  And  blow  up  a  large  part  of  Paris? 
What  heroism!  It's  too  ridiculous.  You  really 
couldn't  do  that  unless  you  believed  in  something! 
Ridiculous  to  do  it  for  no  reason  at  all.  You  mustn't 
upset  the  table  just  because  you  lose. 

De  Launey.     But  what  can  I  do? 

The  Pensioneks.     Surrender. 

De  Launey.  Never!  The  King  confided  the  Bas- 
tille to  me.  I  shall  never  surrender !  [He  agam  tries 
to  go,  but  the  Pensioners  seize  him.] 

The  Pensioners  [to  Vintimille]  .  Monseigneur, 
you  command  us ! 

Vintimille  [coldly].  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur  is 
not  well.  Conduct  him  to  his  apartments,  and  take 
care  of  him. 

De  Launey  [struggling].  Traitors!  Cowards! 
[They  carry  him  off.] 

Vintimille  [aside].  I  was  an  idiot  to  get  dragged 
into  this !  Nothing  to  do  now.  I  must  draw  my  next 
card  with  equanimity.      [Aloud.]      Monsieur  de  Flue? 

De  Flue.     What  is  it? 

Vintimille.  Let  us  draw  up  our  capitulation 
papers. 

De  Flue.  Papers?  No,  thanks,  I'll  have  nothing 
to  do  with  them.  [He  turns  his  back.  Vintimille 
writes,  leaning  against  a  cannon.] 

A  Swiss  Guard  [to  de  Flue].  They  will  massacre 
us. 

De    Flue     [phlegmatic ally].     Possibly.     [He    sits 
down  on  a  drum  and  lights  his  pipe.] 
,    The  Swiss  Guards  [wiping  their  faces].     Damned 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  12S 

heat !  Can't  we  have  something  to  drink  ?  [A  Guard 
gets  a  'pitcher  of  water,  "which  is  passed  around.  The 
Guards  are  together  at  the  left,  with  their  officer;  they 
are  indifferent  and  bored.  The  Pensioners,  opposite, 
stand  about  the  cannon  where  Vintimille  is  writing. 
They  watch  with  respect  every  movement  he  makes. 
BEftUART  holds  the  inkstand  for  him.  Vintimille 
reads  in  a  low  voice  to  Bequaet  what  he  has  written, 
Bequart  nodding  approval.  His  comrades  repeat  the 
words  among  themselves,  likewise  nodding.] 

The  Pensioners  [with  mingled  irony  and  approval]. 
The  Iamb  has  captured  the  wolf. 

Vintimille.  I  demand  their  promise  that  no  one 
shall  be  harmed. 

Bequart.     It  costs  us  nothing  to  ask. 

Vintimille  [smiling].  It  costs  nothing  to  promise. 
[He  goes  to  de  Flue.]     Will  you  sign? 

De  Flue  [as  he  signs].  Fine  way  to  fight! — Well, 
it*8  not  my  affair. 

Vintimille.  The  difficulty  is  not  in  writing,  but  in 
making  them  read  what  we  write.  [The  Pensioners, 
approaching  the  gate,  are  greeted  by  musket-shots.] 

The  Pensioners.  They're  desperate.  They  won't 
let  any  one  come  near. 

Bequaet.     Give  me  the  love-missive. 

The  Pensioners.     You'll  get  killed,  Bequart. 

Bequart.  What  do  I  care?  I'm  not  capitulating 
in  order  to  save  myself. 

The  Swiss  Guards.     Why,  then? 

The  Pensioners  [pointing  to  the  People] .  To  save 
them!     [Among  themselves,  scornfully.]     They  don't 


124.  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

understand  a  thing!  [Bequaet  advances  to  the  gate. 
— The  Pensioners  shout  to  him.]  How  will  you  give 
it  to  them? 

Bequaet  [pointing  to  his  pike] .  On  the  end  of  this 
spit. 

ViNTiMiLLE  [turning  toward  the  towers].  Hoist 
the  white  flag! 

The  Pensioneks  [shouting].  Up  there,  hey!  The 
flag!  [The  gate  opens.  Bequaet  goes  up  toward  the 
opening  in  the  wall,  right  of  the  draw-hridge.] 

Bequaet  [waving  his  arms  and  crying].  Capitula- 
tion !  [He  is  received  hy  a  veritable  tempest  of  shouts 
and  musket-shots.  He  totters,  and  shouts  out  in  fury 
as  he  shakes  his  fist  at  the  crowd.]  Pigs!  It's  for 
your  sake !     For  you ! 

The  Pensionees  [crowding  about  the  draw-bridge, 
and  shouting  outside] ,  Don't  fire !  Don't  fire !  [Out- 
side the  people  are  heard  shouting,  "  Don^t  fire!  "  then, 
"  Surrender!  "  This  cry  increases,  and  finally  voices 
are  heard  in  heated  discussion.  After  a  moment,  there 
is  silence.]  Hoche  and  Hulin  are  making  them  put 
down  their  muskets.  They  understand.  They  are 
stopping.     They  are  coming  up  to  the  moat. 

Bequaet  [leaning  out  far  over  the  wall,  with  the 
letter  at  the  end  of  his  pike] .  Hurry !  I  haven't  time 
to  wait. 

The  Pensionees  [stUl  looking  outside].  Hulin's 
bringing  a  plank.  He's  throwing  it  across  the  moat. 
Some  one's  crossing — ^he's  lost  his  balance!  He's  fall- 
ing!    No,  he's  safe  now. 

Bequaet  [panting  for  breath] .    Hurry  up !    Hurry ! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  125 

The  Pensioners.  He's  touching  the  pike.  He  has 
the  paper. 

Bequart  [standing  upright].  There!  [Looking 
at  the  People.]  Pigs!  [He  raises  his  arms  and 
shouts.]  Long  live  the  Nation!  [He  falls  back^ 
struck  hy  a  bullet.] 

The  Pensioners.  Pigs!  They've  killed  him! 
[Two  of  them  go  to  Bsau art's  body^  and  bring  it  down 
to  the  center  of  the  stage,  laying  it  at  Vintimille's 
feet.] 

ViNTiMiLLE  [looking  at  the  body  with  a  mixture  of 
irony  and  sympathy].     Honor?     To  what  end? 

The  Pensioners.  Listen!  [Outside  is  heard  the 
shout  of  the  People  accepting  the  conditions,  and  the 
Pensioners  repeat:]     Accepted! 

ViNTiMiLLE  [with  indifference].  Inform  Monsieur 
le  Gouverneur. 

The  Pensioners.  Monseigneur,  he's  gone  crazy: 
he's  broken  all  the  furniture  in  his  room.  He  cries  like 
a  baby. 

ViNTiMiLLE  [with  a  shrug].  Well,  I  shall  take  his 
place  to  the  end.  [To  himself,  with  a  touch  of  ironic 
bitterness.]  I  never  thought  I  should  one  day  have 
the  honor  of  giving  up  the  royalty  of  France  with  these 
four-century-old  walls  into  the  hands  of  the  lawyers. 
A  beautiful  duty!  To  think  I  should  come  to  this! 
Well,  nothing  matters;  everything  passes,  and  every- 
thing ends.  Death  settles  all  accounts.  Now  we'll 
give  them  a  little  comedy — with  the  grand  manner  at 
the  last.  [Aloud.]  Fall  in!  Form  in  line!  [The 
garrison  falls  into  rank;  the  Pensioners  on  the  right. 


126  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

the  Swiss  Guards^  left.  De  Flue  is  standing,  while 
ViNTiMiLLE  rises,  using  his  cane  to  support  himself.] 
Butt-ends  of  your  muskets  in  the  air !  Messieurs,  I 
think  I  ought  to  inform  you  that  in  spite  of  the  pre- 
cautions I  have  taken,  there  will  be  some  surprises  when 
the  enemy  makes  its  entrance.  You  know  they  are  not 
a  disciplined  army.  But  if  they  show  any  lack  of 
military  manners,  that  is  no  excuse  for  our  behaving 
likewise.  And  you,  Swiss  Guards,  in  the  name  of  the 
King,  I  thank  you  for  your  obedience.  You  deserve 
more  credit  than  the  others.  \^He  turns  his  back  on  the 
Pensioners  and  smiles  a  little.]  As  to  you,  we  under- 
stand each  other.  [The  Pensioners  murmur  ap- 
proval.] 

De  Flue  [phlegmatically].  War  is  war!  [A  Pen- 
sioner whistles:  "  Ou  peut-on  etre  mieux  qu^au  sein  de 
9a  famille?  "] 

Vintimille  [turning  toward  him,  and,  with  a  dis- 
dainful gesture].  You  need  not  trouble  to  show  your 
glee !     It's  indecent,  my  friend. 

The  Pensioner.     Monseigneur,  I  couldn't  help  it. 

Vintimille.  Why,  you  are  positively  proud  to  be 
beaten ! 

The  Pensignee  [warmly].  We  are  not  beaten! 
They  would  never  have  taken  the  Bastille  unless  we 
had  wished  them  to.  [His  comrades  murmur  ap- 
proval.] 

Vintimille,  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  it  is  we  who 
have  taken  the  Bastile? 

Pensignee.     There  is  some  truth  in  it. 

Vintimille.     Well — !     To    your    post!     [After   a 


THE  FOURTIIENTH  OF  JULY  127 

pause-l  Open  the  gate.  Lower  the  draw-bridge. 
[Some  of  the  men  open  the  gate  and  slowly  lower  the 
draw-bridge.  The  People  outside  continue  their 
shouting.^  Here,  then,  comes  the  new  King,  ha! 
[The  draw-bridge  is  now  down.  A  formidable  clamor 
arises,  as  the  human  flood  pours  in  through  the  opened 
gate.  Men  and  women,  armed  with  pikes,  hatchets, 
and  muskets,  surge  through.  At  their  head  is  Gon- 
CHON,  who  is  pushed  forward,  flourishing  his  saber  in 
the  air.  Hoche  and  Hulin  make  vain  efforts  to  si- 
lence the  mob.  There  are  cries  of  death  and  victory. 
ViNTiMiLLE  takes  off  his  hat.^     Messieurs,  the  rabble! 

Pensionees  [suddenly  swept  away  by  their  enthusi- 
asm, wave  their  hats].     Long  live  Liberty! 

ViNTiMiLLE.  Messieurs,  messieurs,  have  you  no 
sense  of  shame? 

Pensionees  [with  waxing  enthusiasm].  Long  live 
Liberty!  [They  throw  away  their  muskets  and  rush 
into  the  arms  of  the  People.] 

ViNTiMiiiiiE  [with  a  shrug].  Ah,  human  reason,  how 
frail  thou  art!  Farewell,  Monsieur  de  Vintimille. 
[He  breaks  his  sword.  GonChon,  at  his  wits*  end, 
pushed  forward  by  the  howling  mob — among  whom  is 
distinguished  the  Old  Feuit-sellee — fall  upon  Vinti- 
mille, DE  Flue,  and  their  soldiers,  dragging  them  off 
the  stage  with  shouts  and  curses.] 

GoNCHON.     Rip  them  open ! 

The  Old  Woman.     Dogs  of  aristocrats ! 

The  People.  Swiss  pigs ! — I  know  these  fellows ! — 
The  old  lame  ones  ! — The  enemy !  Kill  them !  They 
fired  on  us !     [Hoche  and  Hulin,  who  try  to  stop  the 


128  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

People,  are  brushed  aside  hy  them  and  thrown  against 
a  wall.  In  the  midst  of  the  hubbub,  Maeat  is  seen.^ 
Long  live  Marat !  , 

Marat.     My  children,  what  are  you  doing? 

The  Women.     Kill !     Kill ! 

Marat.  Kill  them?  What  do  you  want?  Would 
you  eat  them?     {Some  of  the  crowd  laugh.] 

HuLiN.     He  knows  how  to  handle  them :  amuse  them ! 

HocHE.     Where  is  the  little  girl? 

HuLiN.  The  little  girl?  [Hoche  runs  out  to  look 
for  Julie.] 

Desmoulins  [jumping  into  their  midst].  Stop, 
comrades,  you're  killing  prisoners ! 

The  People  [stopping].     The  prisoners? 

Desmoulins.  The  prisoners  of  the  Bastille.  Look 
at  their  clothes.     We  have  come  to  free  them! 

The  People  [doubtfully] .     They're  enemies ! 

HuLiN.     There  are  no  more  enemies. 

Julie  [on  Hoche's  shoulders,  carrying  a  branch, 
extends  her  arms  to  the  People,  and  shouts].  Be 
merciful  to  our  friends,  our  friends  the  enemy. 

The  PeopliI  [laughing].     Hear  the  little  one! 

HocHE  [putting  her  down  on  a  cannon,  whence  she 
dominates  the  crowd] .  Shout,  child :  "  All  brothers, 
all  friends." 

Julie.     Brothers !     Brothers ! 

The  People.     We  are  all  brothers !     She's  right ! 

The  Pensioners.     Long  live  the  People ! 

The  People.     Long  live  the  ancient  glory ! 

The  Pensioners  [to  Julie].  You've  saved  us, 
little  one! 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  129 

The  People.  She  conquered  you,  too,  comrades. 
The  little  mite  took  the  Bastille. 

Maeat.     You  are  our  good  conscience! 

The  People.  You  are  our  little  Liberty!  [They 
stretch  out  their  arms.     The  women  blow  kisses  to  her.] 

Hoche  [clapping  Hulin  on  the  shoulder].  Well, 
Hulin?  You  everlasting  doubter,  are  you  at  last  con- 
vinced? 

Hulin  [wiping  his  eyes,  but  still  a  little  obstinate]. 
Yes,  although —  [Laughter  from  Hoche  and  the 
People  drown  out  the  rest.  He  stops  and  laughs 
louder  than  the  others.  He  looJcs  about  him,  and 
catching  sight  of  a  statue  of  the  King  in  a  niche  by  the 
entrance  to  the  court,  he  picks  it  up.]  Down  with 
you !  Make  way  for  Liberty !  [He  throws  the  statue 
down,  then  runs  to  Julie,  picks  her  up  and  puts  her 
in  the  niche.]  The  Bastille  fallen  at  last!  I  did  it! 
We  did  it !  We'll  do  a  lot  more,  too !  Let's  clean  the 
stables  of  Augias,  rid  the  earth  of  its  monsters,  and 
strangle  the  lion  of  royalty.  Our  fists  will  lay  low 
all  despotism!  Comrades,  we  shall  forge  the  Re- 
public !  We've  been  held  down  too  long,  and  now  we're 
bursting  our  bonds !  Roll  on,  oh,  torrent  of  the  Revo- 
lution ! 

The  Old  Feuit-sellee  [astride  a  cannon,  with  a 
red  kerchief  about  her  head].  To  the  King!  Here's 
my  horse.  I  took  him.  I'll  hitch  him  to  my  little  cart 
and  we'll  go  to  Versailles  to  make  a  visit  to  big  Louis ! 
I've  got  a  lot  to  say  to  him.  Lord,  for  centuries  I've 
lived  in  misery,  I've  been  so  patient!  I'm  choking; 
I  must   get   rid   of  the   feeling.     I  was   a  good   old 


1«0  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

animal!  I  thought  I  had  to  suffer,  in  order  to  enjoy 
riches.  Now  at  last  I  understand.  I  want  to  live, 
I  want  to  live!  I'm  sorry  I'm  so  old.  God  Almighty, 
I  want  to  make  up  for  lost  time !  Get  up,  old  fellow, 
to  the  Court!  [The  gun-carriage  is  pushed  forward 
by  the  People,  and  the  old  woman,  in  her  helmet  and 
trappings,  rides  past  in  triumph^] 

The  People.  On  to  the  Court!  On  to  Versailles! 
We've  suffered  too  long!  We  want  to  be  happy! 
We'll  be  happy ! 

Desmoulins  [carrying  a  green  branch'].  The  for- 
est of  Liberty  has  sprung  up  from  the  stones.  Green 
leaves  wave  in  the  wind.  The  old  heart  of  Paris  will 
flower  once  again.     Spring  has  come! 

The  People  [bursting  with  joy  and  pride,  all  wave 
branches,  and  decorate  themselves  with  green  cockades, 
green  ribbons,  etc].  Free!  The  Heavens  are  free! 
[The  sunset  filters  in  through  the  draw-bridge 
opening,  and  bathes  in  purple  the  inner  court  of 
the  Bastille  and  the  People  with  their  waving 
branches.] 

HocHE.  Sun,  you  may  sleep  now,  for  we  have  not 
wasted  our  day. 

La  Contat.  Its  dying  rays  paint  the  castle  win- 
dows, the  branches,  the  heads  and  little  Liberty,  a 
glowing  red. 

HuLiN.     Heaven  announces  the  war. 

Marat.  Unlike  Him  who  entered  seventeen  hundred 
years  ago  in  the  midst  of  branches,  this  little  child  has 
not  come  to  bring  us  peace. 

Desmoulins.     There  is  blood  on  our  hands. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  ISl 

RoBESPiEEEE  [with  supprcsscd  fanaticism].  It  is 
our  own! 

The  People  [excited].  It's  mine! — It's  mine! — 
We  offer  it  to  you,  Liberty ! 

Desmoulins.  To  the  devil  with  our  lives!  Great 
happiness  must  be  bought. 

HocHE.     And  we  are  ready  to  pay. 

Robespierre  [as  before].     We  will  pay. 

The  People  [enthusiastically].  We  will  pay! 
[The.  People  dance  and  sing  about  the  little  figure  of 
Liberty.     Music] 

La  Contat.  What  joy  to  be  one  of  you!  To  love 
and  to  suffer  with  you!  Give  me  your  hands!  Let 
us  dance,  and  all  be  brothers!  Sing,  for  this  is  your 
festival,  Oh,  people  of  Paris ! 

Marat.  My  dear  people,  you  have  suffered  so  long, 
you  have  struggled  so  long  in  silence.  So  many  cen- 
turies had  to  elapse  before  this  hour  of  joy!  Liberty 
is  yours.     Guard  well  your  conquest. 

Desmoulins  [to  the  People],  And  now,  finish  what 
you  have  begun.  This  Bastille  has  fallen,  but  there 
are  others.  On  to  the  fight!  We  must  fight  against 
the  enemies  of  truth!  Against  darkness!  Mind  will 
dominate  brute  force.  The  past  is  dead!  Death 
itself  is  dead! 

HuLiN  [to  Julie].  Our  Liberty,  our  light,  our 
love !  How  small  you  are  now !  And  how  frail !  Will 
you  have  the  strength  to  resist  the  tempests  that  lie 
ahead?  Grow,  grow,  little  plant,  straight  up,  and 
vigorous,  and  give  happiness  to  the  world  with  your 
fragrance  of  the  fields  I 


132  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

HocHE  [saber  in  hand,  climbs  to  an  eminence  at  the 
foot  of  the  niche  where  Liberty  stands^ .  Be  reassured. 
Liberty,  you  are  safe  with  us.  We  hold  you  fast. 
Woe  be  unto  him  who  molests  you!  You  belong  to 
us,  and  we  belong  to  you.  These  spoils,  these  trophies, 
are  yours.  [The  women  strew  Liberty  with  flowers. 
The  men  then  lower  their  pikes,  banners,  branches,  and 
trophies  in  her  presence.^  But  all  this  is  not  yet 
enough:  we  will  give  you  a  deathless  triumph.  Daugh- 
ter of  the  People  of  Paris,  your  eyes  shall  inspire  every 
enslaved  nation.  We  will  carry  across  the  universe  the 
great  banner  of  Equality.  We  will  take  your  chariot 
into  the  midst  of  battles,  with  the  aid  of  our  sabers, 
our  cannon,  toward  Love,  toward  the  brotherhood  of 
all  mankind!  Brothers,  my  brothers!  We  are  all 
brothers !  We  are  all  free !  Come,  let  us  deliver  the 
world!  [Swords,  lances,  branches,  handkerchiefs,  hats, 
and  arms  wave  madly,  amid  the  uproar  of  drwms, 
trumpets,  and  shouting.  The  People  dance  about  the 
figure  of  Liberty.^ 


DANTON 

A  Play  in  Three  Acts 


[Danton  was  produced  in  Paris  in  1900.] 


To  My  Father 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS: 

robespierrb 

Danton 

Camille  Desmoulins 

Vadier 

Billaud-Varennb 

Saint-Just 

Herman 

Westermann 

Herault  d£  Sechelles 

Philippeaux 

Fabre  d'Eglantine 

FoUQUlER-TlNVILLE 

LuciLE  Desmoulins 
Eleonore  Duplay 
Madame  Duplay 

The  People,  Jury,  Gendarmes,  etc. 

Scene:  Paris,  March  and  April,  1794. 

Act       I.    Desmoulins'  home. 

Act     II.    Robespierre's  room. 

Act  III.    The  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

(M.  Rolland  has  suggested  lines  and  "business"  for  The  Peo- 
ple in  footnotes  throughout  Act  III,  but  as  these  are  not  an 
integral  part  of  the  play  and  are  intended  rather  as  an  aid  to 
the  producer,  I  have  not  deemed  it  necessary  to  incorporate  more 
than  half  a  dozen  lines  into  the  test. — The  Tbaitslatob.] 


IM 


ACT  I 

[The  home  of  Camille  Desmoulins.  A  middle-class 
sitting-room,  furnished  in  every  style,  and  pre- 
senting a  fantastic  appearance.  The  walls  are 
hung  with  licentious  engravings  of  the  18th  cen- 
tury. Over  the  fire-place  is  the  bust  of  an 
ancient  philosopher.  On  the  table  is  a  small 
model  of  the  Bastille.  A  cradle  stands  in  the 
corner.  A  window  is  open.  Outside  may  be  seen 
the  gray  sky  and  the  rain.  Camille  and  Lucile, 
who  holds  her  child  in  her  arms,  look  out  the  win- 
dow. Philippeaux  strides  back  and  forth,  glanc- 
ing out  of  the  window  occasionally.  Herault  de 
Sechelles,  seated  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  fire, 
looks  at  his  friends.  The  joyous  shouting  of  the 
crowd  is  heard  outside.} 

Lucile  [leaning  out].  There  they  are !  There  they 
are !     They're  passing  at  the  end  of  the  street ! 

Camille  [shouting].  Good  luck  to  you,  P^re 
Duchesne !     Don't  forget  your  pipe ! 

Herault  [softly].  Camille,  my  friend,  don't  show 
yourself. 

Camille.  Come  and  see  our  old  friends,  Herault ! 
Ronsin,  the  general  of  the  clubs;  and  Vincent,  who 
wanted  your  head,  Philippeaux ;  and  Hebert,  the  bully, 
who  had  supper  every  evening  at  my  expense;  and  the 

137 


138  DANTON 

Prussian  Cloots,  the  fair  Anacharsis !  The  last  trip 
of  the  young  Anacharsis !  Mankind  is  in  a  jSne  fix 
now :  deprived  of  its  orator !  The  guillotine  is  busy 
today. 

LuciLE  [to  the  baby].  Look,  Horace,  look  at  those 
naughty  men !  And  Commander  Hanriot,  galloping 
with  his  saber!     Do  you  see,  darling? 

Philippeaux.  He's  too  zealous.  He  ought  to  be 
riding  on  the  cart  himself. 

Camille.  It's  like  a  great  festival;  the  people  are 
gay.  [Outside  a  clarinet  is  heard  playing  a  grotesque 
air.     The  People  laugh.]     What's  that? 

LuciLE.  The  little  hunchback  with  the  cart,  play- 
ing his  clarinet. 

Camille.  Pleasant  idea !  [They  all  laugh.]  Why 
don't  you  look,  Herault?  Aren't  you  interested? 
You  seem  sad?  What  are  you  thinking  about?  [The 
uproar  becomes  fainter.] 

Heeault.  I  was  thinking,  Camille,  that  Anacharsis 
is  thirty-eight,  and  Hebert  thirty-five — your  age, 
Philippeaux;  and  Vincent  twenty-seven,  six  years 
younger  than  I — and  you,  Desmoulins. 

Camille.  True.  [He  suddenly  becomes  serious, 
leaving  the  window  and  coming  to  the  center  of  the 
room.     He  stands  still  an  instant,  his  chin  in  his  hand.] 

LuciLE  [still  at  the  window].  How  it  rains!  Too 
bad! 

Camille  [put  out].  Come  away  from  the  window, 
Lucile.     You'll  catch  cold. 

LuciLE  [closing  the  window,  comes  into  the  room 
tnth  the  baby,  singing  to  herself:] 


DANTON  139 

"  Come  quick,  little  shepherdess,  gather  your  sheep: 
The  rain  is  beginning  to  fall. 
And  bring  them  back  safe  to  the  sheepfold  again; 
Come  quickj  or  you'll  lose  them  all !  " 

Camille.  Lucile,  Lucile,  how  can  you  sing  that 
song!  I  never  hear  it  without  thinking  that  the  poet 
who  wrote  it  is  now  languishing  in  prison. 

Lucile.  Fabre?  That's  so.  Our  poor  Eglantine. 
They  shut  him  up  in  the  Luxembourg,  sick  as  he  was ! 
Oh,  well,  he'll  come  out. 

Hekault.     Pur  troppo! 

Lucile.  Now  what  does  that  mean?  Something 
naughty,  I  know. 

Philippeaux.     Something  sad,  and  only  too  true. 

Lucile.  Hush,  you  gloomy  men!  Fabre  will  be 
released,  I  tell  you.  Are  we  not  here  to  help 
him  ? 

Hebault.  Danton  himself  could  do  nothing  to  save 
him. 

Lucile.  Danton,  perhaps.  But  when  Camille  takes 
his  pen  in  hand,  and  writes  all  he  thinks,  you'll  see  the 
jail  gates  open  of  their  own  accord! 

Hekault.     For  whom? 

Lucile.     For  the  tyrants ! 

Herault.  Imprudent  shepherdess,  you  had  better 
keep  an  eye  on  your  sheep !  "  Bring  them  back  safe 
to  the  sheepfold  again !  "  Remember  your  song.  [A 
servant  enters  and  takes  the  haby  from,  Lucile;  then 
carries  him  out.  Lucile  whispers  to  her,  leaves  the 
room,  and  returns  a  moment  later.  During  the  entire 
scene  she  walks  about,  busied  with  variants  domestic 


140  DANTON 

duties,  and  only  occasionally  catches  the  drift  of  the 
following  conversation.^ 

Camille.  Lucile  is  right:  we  must  make  the  effort. 
It  is  our  business  to  direct  the  Revolution  which  we 
have  started.  This  voice  of  mine  has  not  yet  lost  its 
power  over  the  crowd.  It  has  sent  fanatics  to  the 
guillotine.  We  were  never  so  strong  as  today;  let 
us  follow  up  our  success :  the  Luxembourg  is  no  more 
difficult  to  take  than  the  Bastille.  We  laid  low  nine 
centuries  of  monarchy,  and  we  can  easily  deal  with  a 
handful  of  vagabonds,  who  derive  their  power  from  us, 
and  who  use  it  in  order  to  run  the  Convention  and 
France  in  their  own  way. 

Philippeaux  [walking  about  agitatedly].  The  ras- 
cals! If  they  only  confined  themselves  to  murder! 
But  no,  they  had  to  implicate  Fabre  in  the  Compagnie 
des  Indes  business;  invented  that  impossible  yarn: 
Jews  and  German  bankers  bribing  our  friend  in  order 
to  corrupt  the  Assembly !  They  know  they  are  lying, 
but  they  cannot  satisfy  their  consciences  until  they 
vilify  their  enemy  before  they  kill  him. 

Herault.  Our  enemies  are  virtuous:  and  that  is 
some  consolation:  to  have  our  throats  cut  in  the  name 
of  principles. 

Camille.  France  hates  hypocrisy.  Let  us  beat 
the  pedants  and  thrash  Basile! 

Philippeaux.  I  have  done  my  duty :  let  each  do  his. 
I  dragged  to  light  the  brigands  of  the  Western  Army, 
the  military  staff  of  Saumur.  I  have  a  firm  hold  on 
their  necks,  and  only  the  loss  of  my  own  head  will 
force  me  to  release  it.     I  have  no  illusions:  I  know 


DANTON  141 

what  it  will  cost  to  attack  General  Rossignol  and  his 
band.  The  Committee  is  now  lying  in  wait,  but  only 
in  order  to  catch  me.  I  wonder  what  infamy  they  are 
going  to  saddle  me  with?  I'm  all  in  a  fever  only  to 
think  of  it.  Let  them  chop  my  head  if  they  will,  but 
they  must  not  touch  my  honor! 

Herault.  I'm  not  so  worried  as  you,  Philippeaux. 
I  already  know  what  pretext  they  have  to  suppress 
me.  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  think  that  while  we  may 
be  the  enemy  of  the  governments  of  all  Europe,  we 
need  not  therefore  despise  every  one  who  does  not 
happen  to  be  French.  I  had  friends  abroad,  and  I 
did  not  think  it  was  necessary  to  break  with  them,  in 
order  to  give  in  to  the  folly  of  Billaud-Varenne  and 
others  of  his  ilk.  They  entered  my  house,  forced  the 
drawers  of  my  desks,  stole  some  letters  of  a  purely 
friendly  nature.  But  that  was  enough,  and  of  course 
I  am  now  a  conspirator  for  the  restoration  of  the 
King,  and  receive  money  from  Pitt. 

Camille.     Are  you  sure  of  what  you  say? 

Heeault.  Quite  sure,  Camille.  My  head  is  not 
worth  a  sou. 

Camille.     But  you  must  hide. 

Heeault.  There  is  no  hiding-place  in  the  world 
for  a  Republican.  Kings  hound  them,  and  the  Re- 
public sends  them  to  the  guillotine. 

Camille.  You  lack  courage.  We  are  the  most 
popular  men  of  the  Republic. 

Herault.  Lafayette  was  popular,  too,  and  Potion, 
and  Roland.  Capet  himself  was  popular.  He  who  was 
a  week  ago  the  people's  idol  is  now  dead.     Who  can 


142  DANTON 

flatter  himself  that  he  is  beloved  of  those  brutes?  At 
moments,  you  think  you  see  in  their  troubled  eyes 
some  faint  reflection  of  your  own  thoughts.  Whose 
conscience,  at  least  one  day  in  a  lifetime,  is  not  in 
harmony  with  the  conscience  of  the  masses?  But  that 
harmony  cannot  long  exist,  and  it  is  folly  to  try  to 
keep  it.  The  brain  of  the  people  is  a  surging  sea, 
alive  with  monsters  and  nightmares. 

Camille.  What  big  words!  We  puff  out  our 
cheeks  to  say  things  to  the  people,  and  we  say  them 
solemnly,  in  order  that  Europe  may  believe  in  some 
mysterious  power  of  which  we  are  the  instruments. 
But  I  know  the  people ;  they  have  worked  for  me.  The 
ass  in  the  fable  says :  "  I  cannot  carry  two  saddles," 
but  he  never  for  an  instant  doubts  that  he  can  carry 
any  at  all.  We  had  trouble  enough  to  make  the  people 
start  their  Revolution;  they  only  did  it  in  spite  of 
themselves.  We  were  the  engineers,  the  agents  of  that 
sublime  movement ;  without  us,  it  would  not  have  moved 
an  inch.  They  did  not  demand  a  Republic ;  I  led  them 
to  it.  I  persuaded  them  that  they  wanted  to  be  free, 
in  order  that  they  might  cherish  their  Liberty  as  their 
own  achievement.  That  is  the  only  way  to  handle 
weak  people.  Convince  them  that  they  want  some- 
thing they  never  thought  of,  and  they  invariably  want 
it. 

Heeault.  Take  care,  Camille ;  you  are  a  child,  and 
you  are  playing  with  fire.  You  believe  the  people  have 
followed  you  because  you  were  aiming  at  the  same 
goal.  They  have  passed  you  by.  Don't  try  to  stop 
them.     You  can't  take  a  bone  from  a  hungry  dog. 


DANTON  143 

Camille.  You  have  only  to  throw  them  another. 
Tell  me,  don't  you  read  my  Vieux  Cordelier?  Does 
not  its  voice  resound  throughout  the  Republic? 

LuciLE.  Do  you  know  how  popular  the  last  number 
was?  He's  had  letters  from  every  one — and  what 
weeping,  and  kisses,  and  declarations  of  love!  If  I 
were  jealous — !  They  implore  him  to  continue,  and 
save  the  country. 

Herault.  How  many  of  these  friends  would  help 
him  if  he  were  attacked? 

Camille.  I  need  no  one's  help.  My  writing-desk 
is  enough!  This  David's  sling  [pointing  to  his  pen] 
has  just  overthrown  the  proud  guillotine,  the  prince 
of  blackguards.  I've  broken  the  pipe  of  Pere  Du- 
chesne, the  famous  pipe  that  like  the  trumpet  of 
Jericho,  after  it  had  thrice  been  smoked  around  a 
reputation,  made  it  fall  of  its  own  accord.  From  this 
pen  went  forth  the  stroke  that  struck  the  cowardly 
Goliath  in  the  head.  I  made  his  own  people  hoot  him. 
Did  you  notice  the  pipe-bowls  about  Pere  Duchesne's 
cart  just  now?  That  was  my  idea.  It  has  proved 
a  prodigious  success.     Why  do  you  look  at  me? 

Heeault.     An  idea! 

Camille.     What  is  it? 
'    Heeault.     Do  you  sometimes  think  of  death? 

Camille.     Death?     No,  I  don't  like  to.     It's  nasty. 

Heeault.  Did  you  never  think  how  awful  it  would 
be? 

LtJCiLE.     How  horrible !     Fine  things  to  talk  about ! 

Heeault.  You  are  a  good,  dear,  lovable  child, 
and  yet  you  are  cruel — like  a  child. 


144  DANTON 

Camille  [excitedlt/].     You  really  think  me  cruel? 

LuciLE.     See,  he's  crying  this  moment! 

Camille  [deeply  stirred].  True,  he  suffered. 
When  I  think  of  his  agony,  his  terror,  waiting  for  the 
end —  It  must  have  been  atrocious !  No  matter  how 
vile  he  was,  he  suffered  like  an  honest  man — perhaps 
even  more.     Poor  Hebert ! 

LuciLE  [her  arms  about  Camille's  necJc].  My  poor 
Bouli-Boula,  you're  not  going  to  feel  so  sorry  for  a 
villain  who  wanted  to  send  you  to  the  guillotine.'* 

Camille  [angrily].  Yes.  Now,  why  are  you  at- 
tacking me  this  way?  Si  quis  atra  dente  me  petiverit, 
inultus  ut  flebo  puer! 

LuciLE  [to  Herault].  And  you  dare  say  ray 
Camille  is  cruel! 

Herault.  I  do,  of  course.  Dear  fellow!  He  is 
perhaps  the  cruellest  of  us  all. 

Camille.  Don't  say  that,  Herault;  I  may  end  by 
believing  you. 

LuciLE  [to  Heeault,  shaking  her  finger  at  him]. 
Say  it's  not  true:  you  are  the  cruellest. 

Heeault.  Well,  no,  it  is  not  true:  you  are  the 
cruellest. 

LuciLE.     Very  well.     I  don't  mind  that. 

Camille.  What  you  say  troubles  me,  Herault.  It 
is  true,  I  have  done  great  evil,  but  I  am  not  bad  by 
nature.  I  have  constituted  myself  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney for  the  lamp-post.  I  have  no  idea  what  damna- 
ble impish  instinct  urges  me  on.  It  was  due  to  me 
that  the  Girondins  are  now  rotting  in  the  fields.  My 
Brissot  dSvoiU  led  to  the  decapitating  of  thirty  ycung. 


DANTON  145. 

lovable,  generous  men.  They  clung  to  life,  as  I  do; 
they  were  made  in  order  to  enjoy  life,  and  be  happy. 
They,  too,  had  their  dear  Luciles.  Oh,  Lucile,  let  us 
go  away,  far  from  this  butchery  that  is  so  terrible  to 
others,  and  perhaps  to  ourselves !  What  if  we — you — 
our  little  Horace — ?  Oh,  why  can't  I  be  a  stranger 
once  more  to  all  men?  Where  can  I  hide  myself  from 
the  sight  of  the  world,  with  my  wife  and  child  and  my 
books!     Ubi  campi  Guisiaque! 

Philippeaux.  You're  in  the  cyclone,  and  you  can- 
not escape. 

Herault.  Don't  force  him  to  remain  in  a  struggle 
which  he  was  not  intended  for. 

Philippeaux.  But  as  he  himself  just  said,  we  must 
do  our  duty. 

Heeault  [pointing  to  Camille,  who  kisses  Luciue]., 
Look  at  him:  does  not  Camille's  duty  seem  to  be  the 
pursuit  of  happiness  .f* 

Camille.  True,  I  have  a  wonderful  vocation  for 
happiness.  Some  people  are  made  for  suffering,  but 
suffering  disgusts  me:  I  want  none  of  it. 

LuciiiE.     Did  I  spoil  your  vocation.? 

Camille.  My  Vesta,  my  little  one!  You  are  very 
much  to  blame !     You  have  made  me  too  happy ! 

Lucile.     Coward !     He  pities  himself. 

Camille.  You  see,  I  have  lost  all  strength,  all  my 
faith. 

Lucile.     How.? 

Camille.  I  used  to  believe  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul.  When  I  saw  the  misery  of  the  world,  I  said  to 
myself  that  life  would  be  too  absurd  if  virtue  were  not 


146  DANTON 

rewarded  elsewhere.  But  now  I  am  happy,  so  sub- 
limely happy  that  I  truly  believe  I  have  received  my 
reward  on  earth.  So  you  see,  I  have  lost  my  proof 
of  immortality. 

Heeault.     Never  try  to  find  it  again. 

Camille.  How  simple  it  is  to  be  happy!  There 
are  so  few  who  know  how  to  be ! 

Herault.  The  simpler  a  thing  is,  the  oftener  it 
eludes  us.  It  is  said  that  men  wish  to  be  happy.  A 
great  mistake !  They  wish  to  be  unhappy ;  they  insist 
on  it.  Pharaohs  and  Sesostris,  kings  with  hawks' 
heads  and  tigers'  claws;  butchers  of  the  Inquisition, 
conquerors  of  Bastilles;  wars  that  sow  murder  and 
rapine — that  is  what  they  want.  The  obscurity  of 
the  mysteries  is  necessary  to  belief;  the  absurdity  of 
suffering,  to  love.  But  reason,  tolerance,  love,  happi- 
ness— ^bah!     Give  them  that,  and  you  insult  them! 

Camille.  You  are  bitter.  You  must  do  good  to 
men  in  spite  of  themselves. 

Herault.  That  is  what  everybody  is  doing  now- 
adays, and  the  result  is  nothing  to  boast  of. 

Camille.  Poor  Republic !  What  have  they  done  to 
You?  Oh,  flowering  fields,  rejuvenated  earth,  clear  air, 
and  bright  light  of  the  heavens,  clear-eyed  Reason  has 
sent  packing  the  sorry  superstitions  and  the  ancient 
Gothic  saints  from  fair  France.  Young  men  and 
women  dancing  in  the  meadows,  heroic  armies,  fraternal 
feeling,  impregnable  wall  against  which  the  armies  of 
Europe  in  vain  break  their  lances;  joy  of  beauty,  noble 
Panathenaics,  white-armed  maidens,  dressed  in  thin 
flowing  draperies;  liberty  to  live,  pleasure  that  throbs 


DANTON  147 

from  sheer  joy  of  living.  Fair  Republic  of  Aspasia 
and  the  charming  Alcibiades — what  has  become  of 
you?  What  are  you  now?  You  wear  a  red  cap,  a 
dirty  shirt;  you  have  a  hoarse  voice,  the  fixed  ideas 
of  a  maniac,  the  pedantic  manner  of  a  school- 
master! 

HEttAuiiT.  You  are  an  Athenian  among  barbarians. 
— Ovid  among  the  Scythians.  You  will  never  reform 
iiiem. 

Camille.     I  shall  at  least  try. 

HEEAUiiT.  You  are  wasting  your  time — perhaps 
your  life. 

Camille.     What  have  I  to  fear? 

HEEAUI.T.     Beware  of  Robespierre. 

Camille.  I  have  known  him  since  we  were  children : 
a  friend  may  say  anything. 

Hebault.  a  disagreeable  truth  is  more  easily  for- 
given by  an  enemy  than  a  friend. 

Lucile.  Stop!  He  must  be  a  great  man  and  save 
the  Patrie.  Whoever  doesn't  agree  with  me,  will  have 
none  of  my  chocolate. 

Hebault  [smiltTig].  1*11  not  say  another  word. 
[Lucile  goes  out.^ 

Philippeaux.  So  you  have  decided  to  go  ahead, 
Desmoulins  ? 

Camille.     Yes. 

Philippeaux.  No  truce,  then!  Press  on,  drive 
your  quill  without  mercy.  The  worst  danger  lies  in 
this  skirmishing  warfare  you  are  carrying  on.  You 
are  satisfied  merely  to  goad  them  with  your  arrows ; 
that  only  gives  them  more  power  against  you.     Aim  at 


148  DANTON 

the  heart,  if  you  can,  and  complete  the  work  at  a 
stroke. 

Heeault.  My  friends,  I  do  not  approve  of  your 
plans,  but  if  you  have  made  up  your  minds,  you  must, 
of  course,  have  every  chance  in  your  favor.  If  we 
intend  to  start  warfare,  Desmoulins*  pen — forgive  me, 
Camille! — is  not  enough.  The  people  do  not  read. 
The  success  of  the  Vieux  Cordelier  misleads  you;  it 
does  not  reach  the  people ;  it  has  quite  another  public. 
You  know  very  well,  Camille:  you  complained  that  one 
number  was  sold  at  twenty  sous.  Aristocrats  like  us 
buy  it.  The  people  know  only  what  the  club  orators 
tell  them,  and  they  are  not  on  your  side.  You  may 
write  down  to  the  people  and  try  to  use  expressions 
you  have  heard  in  the  markets ;  you  will  never  be  one 
of  the  people.  There  is  only  one  way  to  influence 
them:  have  Danton  talk  to  them.  His  thunder  alone 
can  stir  that  vast  chaos.  Danton  has  only  to  shake  his 
mane,  and  the  forum  is  in  his  power.  But  Danton 
does  nothing;  he's  asleep — away  from  Paris.  He 
doesn't  address  the  Convention.  No  one  knows  what 
has  become  of  him.  Who  has  seen  him  lately?  Where 
is  he?  What  is  he  doing?  [Enter  Danton  and 
Westeemann.] 

Danton.  Danton  swims  in  debauchery.  Danton 
dallies  with  the  women.  Danton's  rest  is  like  Her- 
cules'! [Desmoulins  runs  to  Danton  and  shakes 
hands  with  him^  laughing.  Westeemann  stands  aside, 
preoccupied.] 

Camille.  Hercules  still  keeps  his  club,  so  long  as 
there  are  monsters  to  be  killed. 


DANTON  149 

Danton.  Don't  speak  of  killing.  It's  too  horrible. 
France  reeks  with  blood;  the  smell  of  dead  flesh  be- 
fouls the  air.  I  just  crossed  the  Seine;  the  sun  was 
setting,  and  the  river  was  red.  It  seemed  to  flow  in 
waves  of  blood.  If  our  rivers  are  so  foul,  where  shall 
we  wash  our  hands  ?  There  are  enough  dead !  Let  us 
build  up  the  Republic.  Let  the  harvests  and  men  grow 
once  more  and  become  a  new  Patrie.  Let  us  love  one 
another  and  cultivate  our  fields. 

Camille.  May  some  god  give  us  the  chance,  Dan- 
ton!     We  are  counting  on  you. 

Danton.     What  is  it,  my  children? 

Philippeaux.     We  need  your  help  to  fight. 

Danton.  How  can  I  help  you.-*  Must  I  always  do 
everything.'*  You  are  all  alike.  Here  is  Westermann ; 
he  is  a  man;  he  has  fought;  he  has  saved  the  Patrie 
two  or  three  times ;  and  before  he  sits  down  to  supper, 
he  cuts  a  man's  throat  as  an  appetizer.  I  must  aid 
him,  too !  Do  you  want  me  to  ride  a  horse  and  carry 
8  saber,  besides? 

Westeemann.  When  it  comes  to  fighting,  I  yield 
to  no  one.  Take  me  out  to  the  battle-field;  show  me 
a  company  to  rout,  and  see  how  I  acquit  myself.  But 
to  have  to  speak,  answer  the  mouthing  members  of  the 
Convention,  frustrate  the  underhanded  schemes  of  that 
Committee  of  toads  that  are  always  plotting  my  ruin, — 
I  can't  do  it.  I  feel  lost  in  that  city;  the  whole  pack 
snap  at  me ;  I  can't  move ;  I  must  stand  it  and  not 
even  try  to  defend  myself.  Are  you  going  to  let  me  be 
devoured  alive,  and  not  help  me?  By  God,  I  once 
fought  for  you;  we  have  the  same  enemies.     My  cause 


150  D  ANTON 

is  your  cause — yours,  Danton — yours,  Philippeaux,  as 
you  very  well  know ! 

Philippeaux.  I  know,  Westerraann.  It's  because 
you  attacked  Rossignol,  Ronsin,  and  all  the  black- 
guards, as  I  did,  who  dishonor  the  army.  And  the 
Jacobins  are  yelping  after  us.     We  shan't  desert  you. 

Camille  [to  Danton].  We  must  do  something.  I 
offer  my  pen,  and  Westermann  his  sword.  Guide  us, 
Danton.  You  know  how  to  handle  the  crowd,  you 
understand  the  strategy  of  revolutions.  Lead  us;  we 
have  another  Tenth  of  August  ahead. 

Danton.     Later. 

Philippeaux.  You've  disappeared  from  the  arena; 
they  are  forgetting  you.  Show  yourself.  What  have 
you  been  doing  these  many  weeks,  hidden  in  the 
country? 

Danton.  I  have  been  communing  with  mother 
earth,  in  order  to  draw  new  strength  from  it,  like 
Anteus. 

Philippeaux.  Rather  you  are  looking  for  a  pretext 
to  retire  from  the  fray. 

Danton.     I  cannot  lie:  you  speak  the  truth. 

Camille.     What's  the  trouble? 

Danton.     I  am  sick  of  humanity.     I  vomit  men. 

Heeault.     You  are  not  so  sick  of  women,  it  seems? 

Danton.  The  women  at  least  are  frank  enough  to 
be  merely  themselves  and  nothing  more.  They  are 
what  we  all  are :  animals.  They  seek  pleasure  directly, 
and  never  lie  to  themselves  and  cover  up  their  instincts 
with  the  cloak  of  reason.  I  hate  the  hypocrisy  of  the 
intelligence,  the  sanguinary  idiocy  of  these  idealists. 


DANTON  151 

these  dictators  of  impotence,  who  call  the  natural  needs 
corruption,  and  pretend  to  deny  nature,  in  order  to 
flatter  their  own  monstrous  egotism  and  their  mad 
desire  for  destruction.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  be  a  brute, 
an  honest  out-and-out  brute,  with  the  frank  desire  to 
love  others  so  long  as  they  allow  me  a  place  in  the  sun ! 

Camille.     Yes,  we  fairly  reek  with  hypocrisy. 

Danton.  The  most  odious  of  hypocrisies:  the 
hypocrisy  of  the  dagger.     The  virtuous  guillotine! 

Philippeaux.  We  have  destroyed  Capet,  only  in 
order  that  Talien,  Fouchet,  and  Collot  d'Herbois 
might  repeat  their  persecutions  and  massacres  as  at 
Bordeaux  and  Lyon ! 

Camille.  These  maniacs  have  established  a  new  re- 
ligion— an  obligatory  and  lay  religion,  giving  the  pro- 
consuls a  free  hand  to  hang,  slash,  and  burn — all  in 
the  name  of  virtue. 

Danton.  There  is  no  danger  in  any  state  as  great 
as  that  of  the  men  with  principles.  They  don't  try 
to  do  good,  but  to  be  in  the  right ;  no  suffering  touches 
them.  Their  only  morality,  their  only  political  ideal, 
is  to  impose  their  ideas  on  others. 

Heeault  [reciting  ironically]  : 

"  A  man  of  honor  has  a  higher  aim. 
His  joy  consists  in  giving  joy  to  others!" 

LuciLE  [entering^  and  continuing  the  quotation] : 

"  The  gen' reus  man  is  not  so  hard  to  please. 
He  jogs  along  and  spurs  his  fractious  beast 
Without  inquiring  if  the  poor  young  thing 
Enjoys  himself  or  not — " 


152  DANTON 

Heeault.     Hm !     You're  well  up  in  your  authors ! 

LuciLE.  What  of  it?  Every  one  knows  La  Pu- 
celle. 

Danton.  You  are  right,  my  dear.  It  is  the  brevi- 
ary of  good  women. 

Herault.     Did  you  ever  recite  it  to  Robespierre? 

LuciLE.     I'd  never  dare. 

Camille.  Did  you  ever  see  him  when  some  one  told 
a  nasty  story  in  his  presence?  His  brow  contracts; 
he  clasps  his  hands,  he  makes  faces  like  a  monkey  with 
the  tooth-ache. 

Herault.  He  inherits  that  from  his  father,  and 
gets  his  hatred  of  Voltaire  from  Rousseau. 

LuciLE  [astonished].  What!  Is  he  Rousseau's 
son  ? 

Herault  [jokingly].     Didn't  you  know? 

Danton.  Jesuit  nonsense!  He's  more  corrupt 
than  the  rest.  He  who  slinks  off  to  have  his  pleasures, 
usually  has  very  poor  morals. 

Philippeaux.  Possibly,  but  if  Robespierre  loves 
pleasure  he  hides  it  effectively ;  and  he  is  right,  Danton. 
You  parade  your  pleasures  too  much.  You  would 
sacrifice  your  fortune  for  a  night  at  the  Palais- 
Royal. 

Danton.     Because  I  prefer  good  fortune  to  bad. 

Philippeaux.  Meantime,  you  are  compromising 
yourself.  Public  opinion  is  quick  to  judge  you.  And 
what  will  posterity  say  when  it  learns  that  Danton, 
on  the  eve  of  a  decisive  struggle  for  the  State,  thought 
only  of  pleasure? 

Danton.     I  don't  give  a  damn  about  public  opinion ; 


D  ANTON  153 

reputation  is  nothing,  and  posterity  a  stinking 
cesspool ! 

Philippeaux.     And  virtue,  Danton? 

Danton.     Ask  my  wife  whether  mine  satisfies  her. 

Philippeaux.  You  don't  believe  what  you  say. 
You  libel  yourself  and  play  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy. 

Westermann  [bursts  forth  after  attempting  to  re- 
strain himself^.  You  damned  gossips  and  braggarts! 
Some  of  them  declaim  about  their  virtues,  and  some 
about  their  vices.  You  can't  do  anything  but  talk. 
Your  city  is  a  nest  of  petty  lawyers.  The  enemy  is 
threatening  us.  Danton,  tell  me,  yes  or  no,  are  you 
going  to  do  anything.'' 

Danton.  Don't  bother  me.  I've  given  my  life  and 
my  peace  of  mind  to  save  the  Republic,  but  it  doesn't 
deserve  a  single  hour  I  have  sacrificed.  I  tell  you, 
Danton  has  at  last  bought  the  right  to  live  for  himself. 

Camille.  Danton  has  not  bought  the  right  to  be 
a  Sieyes. 

Danton.  Am  I  a  draft-horse,  condemned  to  turn 
the  millstone  till  I  drop? 

Camille.  You  have  entered  a  narrow  pass  sur- 
rounded by  steep  precipices  and  you  cannot  turn  back : 
you  must  go  on.  The  enemy  are  at  hand ;  if  you  stop, 
they  will  push  you  over  the  side.  They  are  already 
lifting  a  hand  and  planning  when  and  where  to  strike. 

Danton.  I  have  only  to  turn  and  show  them  my 
mane,  and  they  will  fall  back  in  dismay. 

Westeemann.  Do  it,  then.  What  are  you  waiting 
for? 


154  DANTON 

Danton.     Later. 

Philippeaux.  But  your  enemies  are  plotting.  Bil- 
laud-Varenne  is  saying  things  against  you.  Vadier  is 
making  jokes  about  your  quick  demise.  Reports  of 
your  arrest  are  circulating  in  Paris. 

Danton  [with  a  shrug] .  Nonsense !  They  wouldn't 
dare! 

Philippeaux.  Do  you  know  what  Vadier  says?  I 
hardly  dare  repeat  it.  He  said,  "  We'll  soon  gut  that 
fat  turbot." 

Danton  [enraged].  Did  Vadier  say  that?  Well, 
tell  that  blackguard  that  I'll  eat  his  brain,  and  grind 
his  skull  to  powder !  The  moment  I  begin  fighting  for 
my  life,  I  am  worse  than  a  cannibal !  [He  f,ies  into  a 
rage.] 

Westermann.     At  last!     Now,  come! 

Danton.     Where  ? 

Westeemann.  Speak  before  the  clubs,  inspire  the 
people,  overthrow  the  Committees,  put  down  Robes- 
pierre. 

Danton.     No. 

Philippeaux.     Why  not? 

Danton.     Later.     I  don't  want  to. 

Camille.     You're  injuring  yourself,  Danton. 

Westeemann.  It  makes  me  rage  when  I  see  these 
good  people  afraid  to  act.  What  fiendish  poison  is  in 
the  air,  keeping  you  people,  whose  heads  are  already 
in  the  noose,  from  moving  a  leg,  from  fighting,  or  at 
least  running  away?  I've  done  all  I  could.  I  leave 
you ;  I'll  find  Robespierre,  whom  you  are  all  afraid  of — 
Yes,  you  are,  though  you  joke  about  it;  your  very 


DANTON  155 

fear  makes  him  strong — I'll  tell  him  the  truth,  and 
he'll  see  for  the  first  time  a  man  who  dares  resist  him. 
I'll  break  the  idol !     [He  goes  out  fuming.] 

Philippeaux.     I'm  coming  with  you,  Westermann. 

Danton  [quietly,  and  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm]. 
He  will  break  nothing.  Robespierre  will  look  at  him — 
like  that — and  it  will  be  over.     Poor  fellow! 

Philippeaux.  Danton,  Danton,  where  are  you? 
Where  is  the  athlete  of  the  Revolution.? 

Danton.  You  are  cowards.  There  is  nothing  to 
fear. 

Philippeaux.  Quos  vult  perdere —  [He  goes 
out.  Heeault  risesy  takes  his  hat,  and  prepares  to 
leave.] 

Camille.     Are  you  going,  too,  Herault.'* 

Herault.  Camille,  Westermann's  style  of  waging 
war  is  not  yours,  I  know.  The  best  thing  you  can  do 
is  to  retire  altogether.  Let  them  forget  you.  Why 
discuss  it.'' 

Camille.     I  must  satisfy  my  conscience. 

Heeault  [shrugs  his  shoulders,  then  kisses  Lucile's 
hand].     Good-by,  Lucile. 

LuciLE.     Good-by.     I  hope  to  see  you  soon  again. 

Heeault  [with  a  smile].     Does  one  ever  know? 

Camille.     Where  are  you  going? 

Heeault.     Rue  Saint-Honore. 

Danton.  Are  you  too  making  a  visit  to  Robes- 
pierre? 

Heeault.  No;  that  is  where  I  usually  walk.  I  see 
the  carts  pass  by. 

Camille.     I  thought  you  disliked  the  spectacle? 


156  D  ANTON 

Heeault.  It  teaches  me  not  to  fear  death.  [He 
goes  out  with  Lucile.] 

Danton  [following  Herault  with  his  eyes].  Poor 
devil,  he's  nervous.  He  blames  me  for  not  doing  any- 
thing. You,  too,  Camille,  would  like  to  blame  me;  I 
can  see  it  in  your  face.  Go  on,  you  think  me  a  cow- 
ard.'* You  think  Danton  sacrifices  his  friends  for  the 
glory  of  his  belly.'' 

Camille.     Danton,  why  do  you  refuse .'* 

Danton.  Children !  Danton  is  not  biiilt  like  other 
men.  Volcanic  passions  stir  within  this  breast,  but 
they  are  always  subject  to  my  will.  My  heart  has 
tremendous  needs,  and  my  senses  make  terrible  demands 
on  me ;  but  the  dominating  head  is  there.  [He  touches 
his  hrow.] 

Camille.     But  what  is  your  idea.'* 

Danton.  To  save  the  country.  Save  it  at  all 
cost  from  our  sacrilegious  quarrels.  Do  you  know  the 
disease  that  is  killing  the  Republic  ?  Mediocrity.  Too 
many  brains  are  thinking  about  the  State.  No  nation 
can  stand  a  Mirabeau,  a  Brissot,  a  Vergniaud,  a  Marat 
— a  Danton,  a  Desmoulins,  a  Robespierre.  One  of 
these  geniuses  could  have  gained  the  victory  for  Free- 
dom. But  all  together,  they  fight  with  each  other, 
and  France  bleeds.  I  took  too  prominent  a  part  my- 
self, though  I  must  do  myself  the  justice  of  saying  that 
I  never  fought  a  Frenchman  unless  my  life  depended 
upon  it,  and  even  in  the  fury  of  the  combat  I  did 
everything  in  my  power  to  save  the  defeated  enemy.  I 
do  not  intend,  for  personal  interest,  to  enter  into  a 
struggle  with  the  greatest  man  of  the  Republic — next 


DANTON  157 

to  myself.  I  do  not  want  to  depopulate  France.  I 
know  Robespierre;  I  saw  his  beginning,  I  watched  him 
grow  from  day  to  day,  through  his  tenacity,  his  work, 
his  faith  in  his  ideas.  His  ambition  grew,  too,  and 
conquered  the  Assembly,  and  all  of  France.  One  man 
alone  is  a  menace  to  him:  my  popularity  counter- 
balances his,  and  his  morbid  vanity  suffers.  Often — I 
must  give  him  credit  for  it — did  he  attempt  to  stifle 
his  instinctive  envy.  But  the  fatality  of  events ;  jeal- 
ousy, stronger  than  reason;  my  enemies  who  excited 
him — everything  draws  us  into  the  struggle.  No  mat- 
ter what  the  result,  the  Republic  will  be  shaken  to  its 
foundations.  Well,  it  is  my  place  to  give  an  example 
of  sacrifice.  Let  my  ambition  sink  before  his !  I  have 
drunk  deep  of  that  bitter  draught,  and  it  has  left  a 
bad  taste  in  my  mouth.  Let  Robespierre  drain  the  cup 
if  he  likes.  I  retire  to  my  tent.  I  am  less  resentful 
than  Achilles,  and  I  shall  wait  patiently  until  he  offers 
me  his  hand. 

Camille.  If  one  must  sacrifice,  why  should  it  be 
you?     Why  not  he? 

Danton  [with  a  shrug].  Because  I  alone  am  capa- 
ble. [After  a  moment's  pause.]  Because  I  am  the 
stronger. 

Camille.     And  yet  you  hate  Robespierre? 

Danton.  I  cannot  harbor  a  thought  of  hatred. 
There  is  no  hatred  in  me.  That  is  not  a  virtue  (I 
don't  know  what  that  means),  it  is  only  a  matter  of 
temperament. 

Camille.  Aren't  you  afraid  to  leave  the  field  free 
to  your  enemy? 


158  DANTON 

Danton.  Ah,  I  know  him  well:  he  can  carry  the 
play  up  to  the  fourth  act,  but  he  is  bound  to  ruin  the 
denouement. 

Camille.  Meantime,  think  what  harm  he  can  do! 
Your  power  is  the  only  balancing  influence  against  this 
reign  of  terror  and  violence.  And  what  about  your 
friends?  Will  you  leave  them  to  the  fate  that  threat- 
ens them.'' 

Danton.  I  am  helping  them  by  allowing  my  powers 
a  respite.  They  are  now  feeling  the  fear  which  I  have 
inspired.  Robespierre  will  listen  to  me,  as  soon  as  his 
jealousy  allows  him  a  breathing-spell.  And  my  hands 
will  be  free  the  moment  I  am  no  longer  the  representa- 
tive of  a  party,  but  of  all  mankind.  You  must  treat 
men  as  you  would  children,  allow  them  the  toys  they 
want,  in  order  to  prevent  their  being  lost  together 
with  you. 

Camille.  You  are  too  generous.  Your  renuncia- 
tion will  never  be  understood.  Robespierre  will  not 
believe  in  your  sincerity.  He  is  suspicious  and  he  will 
find  some  Machiavellian  explanation  for  it.  You  have 
every  reason  to  fear  that  your  enemies  will  profit  by 
your  abdication  to  strike  a  blow  at  you. 

Danton.  Danton  does  not  abdicate:  he  is  retiring 
temporarily  from  the  conflict;  but  he  is  nearby  in  case 
of  danger.  Don't  worry;  all  by  myself,  I  am  the 
strongest  of  them  all;  men  like  me  do  not  fear  to  be 
forgotten;  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  remain  quiet  for  a 
while  in  order  that  the  people  may  notice  what  a  great 
diflFerence  is  made  by  our  absence.  Why,  I  shall  even 
increase    my    popularity.     Instead    of    disputing    the 


D  ANTON  159 

power  with  the  Achaeans,  I  allow  that  power  to  weigh 
heavy  on  their  puny  shoulders. 

Camille.  The  first  use  they  will  make  of  it  will  be 
against  you.  The  whole  pack  of  Vadier's  men  will  be 
down  upon  you. 

Danton.  I'll  attend  to  them !  I  am  used  to  fight- 
ing monsters.  When  I  was  a  child,  I  struggled  with 
bulls.  This  broken  nose  of  mine,  this  torn  lip,  this 
battered  face — it  all  bears  marks  of  their  horns.  One 
day  I  chased  some  wild  pigs  through  the  woods,  and 
they  bit  my  stomach.  I'm  not  afraid  of  Vadiers. 
And  besides,  they  are  too  afraid. 

Camille.  But  what  if  they  did  dare.^*  They  have 
recalled  Saint-Just  from  the  army  in  order  to  reassure 
themselves.  They  say  they  are  waiting  for  his  return 
to  begin  action. 

Danton.  Well,  if  they  push  me  too  far,  on  their 
heads  be  it !  I  have  a  thick  skin,  and  I  am  not  easily 
insulted,  but  the  day  I  throw  myself  upon  them  I  shan't 
stop  until  the  last  one  is  laid  low.  The  dirty  scoun- 
drels! I  could  make  a  mouthful  of  the  lot  of  them! 
[LuciLE  runs  into  the  room,  goes  to  Camille,  and  says 
in  a  frightened  voice:] 

Lucile.  Robespierre!  [Enter  Robespieure,  re- 
served and  impassive;  he  glances  about  quicldy  and 
cautiously,  and  makes  no  other  movement.] 

Camille  [cordially,  hut  a  little  ironically,  as  he 
greets  Robespierre].  My  dear  Maximilien,  you  come 
in  the  nick  of  time.  You  have  been  uppermost  in  our 
conversation  during  the  past  hour. 

Danton  [embarrassed] .     How  arc  you,  Robespierre? 


160  DANTON 

[Undecided  whether  to  offer  his  hand,  he  waits  for  his 
rival  to  make  the  first  step.  Robespieree  does  not 
reply,  hut  shakes  hands  formally  with  Lucile  and 
Camille,  and  bows  quickly  to  Danton.  He  then  sits 
down.  Camille  and  Danton  remain  standing.  Lu- 
cile  busies  herself  as  before.] 

LuciLE.  How  kind  of  you  to  find  time  to  come  and 
visit  us!  And  you  must  be  very  busy!  Sit  closer  to 
the  fire.  There's  a  fog  outside  that  chills  you  to  the 
bone.  And  how  are  your  dear  landlords  and  hosts. 
Citizens  Duplay,  and  my  little  friend  Eleonore? 

Robespierre.  Very  well,  thank  you,  Lucile. — Ca- 
mille, I  have  something  to  discuss  with  you. 

Lucile.     Shall  I  leave? 

Robespierre.     No,  not  you! 

Camille  [stopping  Danton,  who  starts  to  go]. 
Danton  is  a  partner  in  all  my  thoughts. 

Robespierre.  So  they  say.  But  I  hesitated  to  be- 
lieve it. 

Danton.     Don't  you  like  it? 

Robespierre.     I  don't  think  so. 

Danton.  Well,  there  is  one  thing  that  you  can 
never  prevent :  people  loving  Danton. 

Robespierre.  The  word  love  is  common,  the  reality 
rare. 

Danton  [with  a  sneer].  It  is  said  that  there  are 
certain  men  who  never  know  it. 

Robespierre  [after  a  short  pause,  says  coldly,  his 
hands  twitching  nervously].  I  have  not  come  to  dis- 
cuss Danton's  debaucheries.  Camille,  in  spite  of  my 
warnings,  you  insist  on  following  bad  advice  and  giving 


DANTON  161 

in  to  your  own  foolish  impulses.  Your  pamphlet  is 
sowing  seeds  of  dissension  all  over  France.  You  are 
wasting  your  mind  and  destroying  public  confidence  in 
men  who  are  necessary  to  the  Republic.  All  the  re- 
actionaries are  making  use  of  your  sarcastic  remarks 
and  directing  them  against  the  cause  of  Liberty.  For 
a  long  time  I  have  combated  the  hatred  you  arouse, 
and  twice  I  have  saved  you;  but  I  cannot  continue 
forever.  The  State  is  alive  with  sedition;  and  I  have 
no  sympathy  for  any  will  that  is  against  the  State. 

Camille  [hurt].  Please  spare  yourself  the  trouble 
of  thinking  of  me.  Your  solicitude  is  touching,  Maxi- 
milien,  but  I  need  no  one's  help.  I  can  defend  myself, 
and  I  can  walk  alone. 

RoBESPiEKEE.  You  are  vain.  Don't  try  to  answer 
me.     Your  stupidity  is  your  only  excuse. 

Camille.  I  need  no  excuse.  I  have  deserved  well 
of  the  Patrie.  I  defend  the  Republic  against  the  Re- 
publicans. I  have  spoken  freely,  and  I  have  spoken 
the  truth.  The  moment  it  is  not  good  to  speak  every 
truth,  there  is  no  more  Republic.  The  Republicans' 
motto  is  like  the  wind  blowing  over  the  waves  of  the  sea : 
Tollunt,  sed  attollunt!  It  agitates,  but  raises  them  at 
the  same  time! 

Robespierre.  The  Republic  is  not  yet,  Desmoulins. 
We  are  making  it.  You  cannot  found  liberty  with 
liberty.  Like  Rome  in  troubled  times,  the  nation  must 
be  under  a  dictator  who  shall  tear  down  all  obstacles, 
and  conquer.  It  is  ridiculous  to  maintain  that  since 
Europe  and  every  faction  menaces  the  Republic,  you 
have  the  right  to  say  everything,  do  everything,  and 


162  D  ANTON 

with  word  and  deed,  put  weapons  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy. 

Camille.  What  weapons  have  I  given  the  enemy? 
I  have  defended  the  most  sacred  things  in  the  world: 
fraternity,  holy  equality — the  heart  and  soul  of  Re- 
publican maxims,  the  res  sacra  miser;  respect  for 
misery,  which  is  commanded  by  our  sublime  Constitu- 
tion. I  have  made  men  love  liberty.  I  wished  to  light 
up  the  eyes  of  all  peoples  with  the  radiant  image  of 
happiness. 

Robespierre.  Happiness !  There  is  the  fatal  word 
with  which  you  draw  to  you  every  form  of  selfishness 
and  covetousness.  Who  does  not  wish  for  happiness? 
We  are  not  offering  the  happiness  of  Persepolis  to 
the  people,  but  the  happiness  of  Sparta.  Happiness 
is  virtue.  But  you  have  abused  the  meaning,  and 
awakened  in  the  minds  of  cowards  a  desire  for  that 
criminal  happiness,  which  consists  in  forgetting  others, 
and  in  enjoying  what  is  unnecessary.  A  shameful  con- 
ception !  It  would  soon  extinguish  the  sacred  flame  of 
the  Revolution !  Let  France  learn  to  suffer,  let  her 
be  happy  in  suffering  for  the  cause  of  freedom,  in 
sacrificing  her  comforts,  her  peace,  her  affections,  for 
the  happiness  of  the  whole  world! 

Camille  [beginning  politely  hut  airily,  and  at  the 
end  becoming  clear,  forceful,  and  decisive] .  Maxi- 
milien,  as  I  listen  to  you,  I  am  reminded  of  a  passage 
from  Plato ;  "  *  When  I  listen  to  you,'  said  the  good 
general  Laches,  *  when  I  listen  to  a  man  who  speaks 
well  of  virtue,  a  man  who  is  a  real  man  of  the  people, 
worthy  of  what  he  speaks  of,  I  experience  an  ineffable 


DANTON  16S 

pleasure.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  is  the  only  musician 
who  makes  perfect  harmony;  for  his  practice  is  in 
accord  with  his  theory,  not  according  to  the  Jacobin 
or  Genevese  fashion,  but  the  French,  which  alone  de- 
serves the  name  of  Republican  harmony.  When  such 
a  man  speaks  to  me,  he  fills  me  with  joy,  and  no  one 
doubts  that  I  am  drunk  with  his  talk.  But  he  who 
sings  of  a  virtue  which  he  practises  not,  cruelly  af- 
flicts me,  and  the  better  he  appears  to  speak,  the  greater 
aversion  do  I  feel  for  music' "  [Desmoulins  turiu 
his  back  on  Robespierre,  who  rises,  without  a  word  or 
a  gesture,  and  starts  to  go.  Lucile,  who  is  concerned 
at  the  turn  in  the  conversation,  and  who  keeps  her  eyes 
fastened  on  Robespierre,  takes  his  hand  and  tries  to 
pass  off  the  matter  as  a  joke.^ 

Lucile  [pointing  to  Camille].  He  must  always  be 
contradicting,  the  naughty  boy !  If  you  only  knew  how 
angry  he  makes  me  sometimes !  Dear  Maximilien,  you 
two  are  always  the  same.  You  used  to  argue  like  that 
when  you  were  at  school  in  Arras.  [Robespierre,  with 
a  glacial  look,  does  not  answer,  but  starts  for  the  door.] 

Danton  [goes  toward  Robespierre — with  true  siiv- 
cerity].  Robespierre,  we  are  all  three  of  us  in  the 
wrong.  Let  us  be  men,  submitting  only  to  reason,  and 
let  us  sacrifice  our  petty  quarrels  for  the  good  of  the 
nation.  See,  I  come  to  you,  I  offer  you  my  hand. 
Forgive  my  impatience. 

Robespierre.  Danton  believes  a  word  can  make  up 
for  his  insults.     It  is  easy  for  the  offender  to  forget. 

Danton.  Perhaps  I  do  wrong  in  offering  to  be  gen- 
erous to  my  enemies,  but  the  Republic  demands  it. 


164  DANTON 

She  needs  my  energy  and  your  virtue.  If  you  dislike 
my  energy,  remember  that  I  dislike  your  virtue.  We 
are  quits.  Do  as  I  do,  hold  your  nose  and  save  the 
nation. 

RoBESPiERjRE.  I  believe  no  man  indispensable  to  the 
nation. 

Danton.  Every  envious  man  says  that.  Accord- 
ing to  that  fine  way  of  reasoning  the  nation  would  soon 
be  emasculated. 

RoBESPiEERE.  There  is  no  power  where  confidence  is 
lacking ! 

Danton.  So,  you  mistrust  me?  Do  you  really  be- 
lieve those  absurd  stories  about  me?  Those  wild 
ravings  invented  by  Billaud-Varenne.?  Look  at  me. 
Have  I  the  face  of  a  hypocrite.''  Hate  me,  if  you  will, 
but  don't  suspect  me ! 

Robespierre.     I  judge  men  by  their  actions. 

Danton.     Do  you  complain  of  my  actions? 

Robespierre.  You  boast  that  you  feel  no  hatred — 
you  don't  hate  the  enemies  of  the  Republic,  but  yet 
that  is  what  is  destroying  the  Republic.  Pity  for  those 
hangdogs  means  cruelty  toward  the  victims.  You  see, 
this  weakness  has  forced  us  to  raze  whole  cities;  some 
day  it  may  mean  thirty  years  of  civil  war. 

Danton.  But  you  see  crime  everywhere!  It  is 
sheer  madness.  If  you  are  sick,  you  must  be  taken 
care  of,  but  don't  make  every  one  take  your  medicine. 
The  Republic  is  killing  itself.  It  is  high  time  to  put 
a  stop  to  that  absurd  and  ferocious  Terror  which  is 
consuming  France.  But  if  you  don't  hurry,  if  you 
refuse  to  join  us,  you  will  soon  be  unable  to  stop  it; 


DANTON  165 

it  will  bum  you  with  the  rest — or  before  the  rest. 
Can't  you  see  that  the  day  Danton  is  not  by,  you  will 
be  the  first  to  be  struck  down?  I  am  the  one  who  is 
still  protecting  you  from  the  fire. 

Robespierre  [turning  from  Danton].     May  it  con- 


sume me 


Camille  [aside  to  Danton].  You  said  too  much, 
Danton ;  you  wounded  his  pride. 

Danton.  In  the  name  of  the  Patrie,  Robespierre, 
of  this  Patrie  we  both  love  so  ardently,  let  us  make 
peace  for  us  all,  friends  and  enemies — so  long  as  they 
love  France!  Let  this  love  wash  clean  all  suspicion 
and  all  faults !  Without  it  there  is  no  virtue.  With 
it,  no  crime. 

Robespierre.     No  Patrie  without  virtue ! 

Danton  [menacingly].  Once  more,  I  ask  you  to 
make  peace.  You  must  realize  what  it  costs  me  to 
make  these  advances.  But  I  swallow  my  pride,  if  I 
can  help  the  Republic.  Give  me  your  hand;  free 
Fabre;  reinstate  Westermann;  protect  Herault  and 
Philippeaux  from  the  infuriated  people. 

Robespierre.  It  is  my  business  to  put  down  crime, 
not  to  govern  it. 

Danton  [restraining  himself  with  the  greatest  dif- 
ficulty]. So  you  want  war,  Robespierre.''  Think 
well. 

Robespierre  [impassive  as  ever,  turns  his  back  on 
Danton,  and  speaks  to  Desmoulins].  Camille,  I  ask 
you  for  the  last  time:  will  you  cease  your  attacks  on 
the  Committee? 

Camille.     Let  it  cease  to  deserve  them! 


166  DANTON 

RoBESPiEKRE.  Submit  to  the  laws  of  the  nation 
together  with  the  rest. 

Camille.  I  am  a  representative  of  the  nation,  and 
I  have  a  right  to  speak  for  her. 

RoBESPiEREE.  You  owc  it  an  example  in  obeying 
the  law. 

Camille.  We  know  only  too  well  how  those  laws 
are  made.  We  are  all  lawyers,  Robespierre ;  we  know 
what  masquerades  beneath  the  majesty  of  the  law.  I 
would  laugh  seeing  us  together  here,  if  I  did  not  think 
of  the  tears  that  are  shed  at  the  comedy  we  now  play. 
We  cost  mankind  too  much.  Virtue  itself  is  not  worth 
the  price  we  pay  for  it — and  crime,  all  the  more  so. 

Robespierre.  He  who  could  not  accomplish  this 
task  had  no  business  undertaking  it.  But  he  who  ac- 
cepts, should  march  straight  ahead  and  say  nothing, 
until  he  falls  crushed  with  its  weight. 

Camille.  I  am  willing  to  sacrifice  myself,  but  not 
others. 

Robespierre.     Good-by. — And — remember  Herault. 

Camille.     Why  do  you  mention  Herault? 

Robespierre.     He  is  arrested. 

Danton  aw<?  Camille.  Arrested?  He  just  left  this 
house ! 

Robespierre.     I  know. 

LuciLE.  What  has  he  done?  Maximilien,  what  is 
his  crime? 

Robespierre.     He  kept  a  proscript  in  his  house. 

Camille.     He  did  his  duty. 

Robespierre.     The  Committee  has  done  its  duty. 

Danton  [no  longer  able  to  restrain  himself].     You 


DANTON  167 

damned  blackguard,  do  you  want  to  cut  the  throats  of 
us  all?  You  lop  off  the  branches  before  attacking  the 
heart.  Let  me  tell  you,  my  roots  extend  way  down 
into  the  earth,  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  France. 
You  will  never  pull  them  out  except  by  killing  the 
Republic.  My  fall  will  carry  the  rest  of  you  along, 
and  the  vile  vermin  that  are  now  gnawing  at  my  feet 
will  be  the  first  to  go.  Does  my  patience  encourage 
you?  Do  the  vermin  run  up  my  body?  I  won't  stand 
it  much  longer!  The  lion  stretches  himself!  You 
little  rat,  you  don't  know  that  I  could  crush  you  be- 
tween my  fingers  if  I  wished?  Hurrah  for  war,  if 
you  want  war!  The  excitement  of  past  conflicts  is 
getting  the  better  of  me.  My  voice  has  been  silent  for 
too  long.  Once  more  it  will  send  the  nation  to  fight 
against  the  tyrants ! 

Camille.  We'll  scale  the  new  Tuileries.  The  Vieiuc 
Cordelier  will  sound  the  battle-cry.  [Robesfieb&e 
quietly  goes  to  the  door.  Lucile,  deeply  troubled  and 
unable  to  utter  a  word,  disappears  for  a  moment  into 
the  next  room,  and  comes  back  with  a  baby.^ 

Lucile.  Maximilien !  [Robespierre  turns,  looles 
at  the  little  Horace,  hesitates  a  moment,  smiles,  then 
takes  the  baby  and  sits  down.  He  kisses  him,  and  looks 
at  Lucile  and  Camille.  Then,  without  a  word,  he 
returns  the  baby  to  Lucile,  and  goes  out.  The  inci- 
dent is  played  without  visible  emotion,  except  on  the 
part  of  Lucile.] 

Camille.     Poor  Lucile!     You're  worried? 

Lucile.  Oh,  Camille,  Camille,  how  imprudent  of 
you! 


168  DANTON 

Camiixe.     You  made  me  nervous  just  now. 

LuciLE.     I'm  sorry. 

Camille.  One  must  say  what  one  thinks.  And 
then —  [With  a  shrug.]  Oh,  I  have  nothing  to  fear: 
he  really  likes  me,  and  he  will  defend  me. 

LuciLE.     Still,  I'm  afraid. 

Camille.  He  is  more  afraid  than  we:  Danton's 
voice  has  proved  effective.  He  is  one  of  those  men 
who  need  to  fear  those  they  love.  Well,  we  must  see 
our  friends,  and  come  to  an  understanding.  Let  us 
lose  no  time.     Come,  Danton. 

Danton  [who  sitSf  preoccupied] .  Yes.  Where  are 
we  going.? 

Camille.  To  join  Philippeaux  and  Westermann, 
and  save  H^rault. 

Danton.     Tomorrow — tomorrow. 

Camille.     Tomorrow  will  be  too  late. 

Danton  [very  sad — affectionately],  Lucile,  read 
me  something;  sing  to  me;  console  me. 

Lucile.  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  [She 
stands  behind  him  and  leans  on  his  shoulder.  He  taJces 
her  hand  and  presses  it  to  his  cheek.] 

Danton.  Oh,  Republic !  Destroying  herself !  De- 
stroying her  own  handiwork.  Victors  or  victims,  what 
difference  does  it  make?     Victims  in  either  case! 

Camille.  In  either  case,  victors,  crowned  with 
Glory ! 

Danton  [rising — violently].  Come,  then,  and  may 
the  Republic  confound  the  world  with  the  echo  of  her 
fall! 


ACT  n 

Robespieere's  room  in  the  Duplay  house.  There  are 
two  doors.  The  walls  are  white  and  hare.  There 
is  a  chestnut  bedstead  with  blue  damask  curtains 
with  a  white  flower  design.  A  simple  desk.  A  -few 
straw-bottomed  chairs.  Some  -flowers  in  a  glass 
•  on  the  window-sill.  Down-stage  center  is  a  small 
stove,  with  a  chair  on  one  side  and  a  stool  on  the 
other.  The  door  on  the  left  leads  to  the  Duplays* 
apartments.  The  window  looks  out  on  a  court- 
yard in  which  carpenters  are  working;  they  are 
heard  hammering,  planing,  and  sawing.  Robes- 
pierre sits  alone  at  his  desk.] 

Madame  Duplay  [opening  the  door].  Am  I  dis- 
turbing you,  Maximilien? 

Robespierre  [with  a  friendly  smUe].  No,  Citizen 
Duplay.     [He  offers  her  his  hand.] 

Madame  Duplay.  Always  working!  You  never 
went  to  bed  last  night! 

Robespierre.     I  was  at  the  Committee. 

Madame  Duplay.  I  heard  you  come  in.  It  was 
after  three.     Couldn't  you  rest  this  morning? 

Robespierre.  You  know  I  never  sleep  very  much; 
I  have  trained  my  body  to  obey  my  head. 

Madame  Duplay.  You  promised  me  you  wouldn't 
sit    up    any    more.     You're    wearing    yourself    out; 

169 


170  DANTON 

you'll  get  sick.  And  then  what  would  become  of 
us? 

RoBESFiEB&E.  My  pooF  fricnds,  you  must  get  used 
to  doing  without  me.  I  shan't  always  be  here,  you 
know. 

Madame  Duplay.  You  aren't  thinking  of  leaving 
us? 

Robespierre  [wtffe  sincerity  and  emphasis'].  No, 
but  I  shall  leave  sooner  than  you  expect. 

Madame  Duplay.  Oh,  no ;  I  insist  on  being  the  first 
to  leave,  and  I  am  in  no  hurry. 

Robespierre  [with  a  smile],  I  should  feel  easier  if 
I  knew  others  were  not  so  dependent  on  me. 

Madame  Duplay.  Don't  you  care  to  have  people 
like  you? 

Robespierre.  France  would  be  better  off  if 
every  one  thought  less  of  Robespierre  and  more  of 
Liberty. 

Madame  Duplay.  But  Liberty  and  Robespierre  are 
one. 

Robespierre.  That  is  why  I  am  so  concerned  about 
her.     I  fear  for  her  health. 

Madame  Duplay  [going  to  the  mndow].  What 
noise  they  make  in  the  court!  I  know  it  must  tire 
you.  I  told  Duplay  twenty  times  to  ask  them  not  to 
begin  so  early  and  wake  you  up,  but  he  said  you  in- 
sisted that  everything  go  on  as  usual. 

Robespierre.  He  is  right.  That  regular  activity 
rests  me.  Work  is  beneficial  to  others  as  well  as  to 
oneself.  The  noise  is  refreshing  to  me.  I  have 
breathed  such  vitiated  air  all  night! 


DANTON  171 

Madame  Duplay.  What  work  kept  you  up  last 
night  ? 

RoBESPiEREE.     It  was  Dot  the  work,  but  the  worry. 

Madame  Duplay.  You  seem  preoccupied — as  if 
some  great  catastrophe  were  about  to  happen. 

Robespierre.     Yes,  a  catastrophe. 

Madame  Duplay.     Can't  you  prevent  it? 

Robespierre.  Oh,  I  must  bring  it  about,  on  the 
contrary. 

Madame  Duplay.  Of  course,  I  have  no  right  to  ask 
questions,  but  you  mustn't  be  sad  today.  We're  hav- 
ing a  festival.  Le  Bas  and  Saint- Just  came  back  from 
the  army  last  night. 

Robespierre.  Saint- Just  returned!  Good:  I  need 
him. 

Madame  Duplay.  And  I  forgot  to  tell  you:  a  gen- 
eral came  here  and  wanted  to  see  you.  General  Wester- 
mann.  He  came  before  sunrise,  but  I  wouldn't  let  him 
in.  He  said  he  would  come  back  in  an  hour.  Will 
you  receive  him? 

Robespierre.     I  don't  know. 

Madame  Duplay.  He  waited  a  long  time  in  the 
yard — in  the  rain. 

Robespierre.     Very  well. 

Madame  Duplay.  What  an  awful  night!  I  came 
in  soaked  to  the  skin. 

Robespierre.     Where  were  you? 

Madame  Duplay.  At  the  Markets.  I  was  waiting 
in  line  since  midnight.  They  were  pushing  so!  You 
had  to  keep  your  eyes  open,  or  some  one  would  take 
your   place!     The    moment    they    opened,    every    one 


172  DANTON 

began  to  fight.  I  stood  up  for  my  rights,  and  I  finally 
got  three  eggs  and  a  quarter  pound  of  butter. 

RoBESpiEEEE.  Three  eggs  for  this  household? 
Why,  that's  nothing  at  all ! 

Madame  Duplay.  One  for  Eleonore,  one  for  Elisa- 
beth, and  one  for  you — my  three  children! 

RoBESPiEREE.  Dear  mother  Duplay,  you  don't  im- 
agine I  shall  take  bread  out  of  your  mouth? 

Madame  Duplay.  You're  not  going  to  refuse !  It 
was  for  you  I  went  to  the  Market.  You're  not  well; 
you  have  a  weak  stomach.  If  you  could  only  eat 
meat !     But  you  won't  let  us  buy  any ! 

RoBESPiEEEE.  Meat  is  very  scarce,  and  it  must  be 
kept  for  the  soldiers  and  the  sick.  We  have  decreed 
a  civil  lent.  My  colleagues  and  I  must  offer  a  good 
example  of  abstinence. 

Madame  Duplay.     Not  everybody  has  your  scruples. 

RoBESPiEEEE.  I  kuow :  I  have  seen  some  of  them 
indulge  in  feasting  amidst  all  this  misery;  it  horrifies 
me.  Every  feast  of  that  kind  deprives  the  country  of 
at  least  thirty  defenders. 

Madame  Duplay.  What  misery!  No  more  meat, 
no  more  poultry,  no  more  dairy  products.  The  vege- 
tables have  been  commandeered  for  the  army.  And  no 
more  fuel.  This  is  the  second  night  that  Duplay  has 
stood  in  line  at  the  coal  boat.  He's  just  come  in — 
without  a  thing.  And  there  is  no  wood  at  all.  Do  you 
know  what  they  asked  me  for  a  cord?  Four  hundred 
francs.  Fortunately  spring  is  not  far  off.  Another 
month  of  this,  and  we'll  all  be  dead.  I  never  remember 
so  hard  a  winter. 


DANTON  17S 

RoBESPiEEEE.  You  have  suffered,  all  of  you,  poor 
women,  and  you  have  shown  splendid  courage.  But 
you  must  admit  that  with  all  the  suffering,  you  felt 
joys  you  never  dreamed  of  before:  the  joy  of  helping 
on,  no  matter  how  humbly,  with  the  sublime  work  of 
freeing  the  world ! 

Madame  Duplay.  Yes,  I  am  happy.  No  matter 
what  happens,  those  months  of  misery  will  remain  the 
happiest  of  our  lives.  What  we  have  suffered  are  not 
the  ordinary  things,  the  useless  things.  Every  time 
we  fasted  it  was  for  the  good  of  the  nation.  This 
feeling  of  pride  we  owe  to  you,  Maximilien.  Last  night 
I  was  thinking  as  I  was  doing  the  wash;  no  matter 
how  humble  I  am,  no  matter  how  I  may  worry  about 
the  morrow,  and  wonder  where  our  bread  is  coming 
from,  I  am  working  for  the  nation;  nothing  is 
lost;  every  thing  I  do  counts  toward  victory.  I 
am  marching  with  you  at  the  head  of  all  man- 
kind! 

The  Woekingmen  [outside,  singing]  : 

"  We  forge  and  saw  with  all  our  might 

Making  muskets  for  the  fight. 
Soldier  boys,  you'll  have  enough 

If  we  have  to  work  all  day  and  night. 
For  we  forge  and  saw  with  all  our  might." 

Madame  Duplay  [smiling].  They've  just  filled  an 
order  for  the  Northern  Army;  they're  starving  to 
death,  but  they're  happy. 

RoBESPiEEEE.  SubHme  people!  How  good  it  is  to 
be  one  of  them!     Who  could  forgive  those  who  try  to 


174  DANTON 

corrupt  that  source  of  abnegation  and  sacrifice? 
[Westermann  is  heard  muttering  outside.^ 

Madame  Duplay.  There's  the  General.  He's  get- 
ting impatient. 

Robespierre.  Send  him  in.  [Madame  Duplay 
goes  out.  Robespierre  looks  into  his  mirror.  In  an 
instant,  his  face  is  transformed;  becoming  hard,  im- 
mobile, and  cold.     Westermann  enters.] 

Westermann.  Good  God,  not  a  moment  too  soon! 
I've  been  walking  up  and  down  outside  for  the  last  two 
hours.  It's  harder  to  enter  your  house  than  a  Vendue 
city.  [Robespierre,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  mo- 
tionless, face  stolid,  lips  contracted,  looks  Wester- 
mann in  the  eye.  Westermann  stops  for  a  moment, 
then  continues.]  I  thought  you  didn't  want  to  re- 
ceive me.  Desmoulins  told  me  you  wouldn't.  I  swore 
you  would,  if  I  had  to  send  a  cannon-shot  through  the 
front-door.  [He  laughs.]  Pardon  my  military  frank- 
ness. [Robespierre  stands  as  before.  Wester- 
mann, ill  at  ease,  tries  to  appear  natural.]  Lord, 
you're  well  guarded.  There's  a  very  pretty  girl  on 
guard  at  the  door.  She's  mending  socks.  She's  hard 
to  deal  with — incorruptible,  like  you!  I'd  have  had 
to  enter  over  her  dead  body — !  If  I  were  in  the 
enemy's  country,  that  wouldn't  have  been  so  bad — 
[He  gives  a  forced  laugh.  Robespierre  maintains  si- 
lence, and  twists  his  hands  impatiently.  Westermann 
sits  down,  trying  to  appear  at  his  ease,  while  Robes- 
pierre stands.  Westermann  then  rises.]  There  are 
some  idiots  who  say  that  I'm  your  enemy.  I  don't 
give  a  damn  what  they  say.     How  can  I  be  the  enemy 


DANTON  175 

of  virtue?  Nonsense!  Aristides  the  enemy  of  Leon- 
idas?  The  bastion  of  the  Republic  and  the  rampart 
of  the  Patrie!  Why,  they're  meant  to  help  each  other ! 
Good  fellows  like  us  always  put  the  glory  of  the  nation 
above  everything,  don't  we?  We  understand,  don't 
we?  [He  offers  his  hand.  Robespieree  does  not 
move  a  muscle.']  He  won't  give  me  his  hand,  eh? 
Won't  you,  really?  Are  you  my  enemy,  then? 
You're  planning  to  ruin  me?  By  God,  if  I  thought 
that — !  Am  I  a  good-for-nothing  blackguard  to  be 
kept  waiting  for  two  hours  in  the  street,  and  then 
when  you  finally  let  me  in,  you  don't  even  offer  me  a 
chair?  You  let  me  stand  up,  and  don't  even  answer 
me?     By  God!     [He  stamps  on  the  floor.] 

Robespieree  [glacially].  General,  you  are  on  the 
wrong  track.  There  is  a  great  difference  between 
Leonidas  and  Pere  Duchesne.  You  take  your  models 
from  a  dangerous  quarter. 

Westeemann  [surprised].     What  quarter? 

Robespieeee.     The  Revolution. 

Westeemann  [genuinely  astonished].  But,  tell  me, 
citizen,  what  have  I  done?  What  do  you  accuse  me 
of? 

Robespieeee.  The  Committee  of  Public  Safety  will 
tell  you. 

Westeemann.     I  have  a  right  to  be  told  now. 

Robespieeee.     Ask  your  conscience. 

Westeemann.     My  conscience  is  clear. 

Robespieeee.  I  pity  the  man  who  cannot  hear  the 
voice  of  remorse. 

Westeemann  [calming  himself  with  a  violent  effort. 


176  DANTON 

though  his  voice  trembles  with  anger  and  grief].  I 
feel  remorse  for  only  one  thing:  having  sacrificed  my 
life  to  an  ungrateful  nation.  I  have  suffered  for  it 
during  the  past  thirty  years.  I've  gone  through  every 
form  of  misery.  Ten  times  I  have  saved  the  country 
from  invasion.  It  never  recognized  my  services.  The 
first  impostor  that  comes  along  denounces  me ;  they  be- 
lieve anonymous  letters  from  soldiers  I  punished  for 
cowardice;  they  accuse  me,  threaten  me,  degrade  me 
from  my  rank,  while  damned  little  rapscallions  are 
promoted  over  my  head.  I  must  obey  Rossignol,  a 
stupid  little  goldsmith  who  knows  nothing  about  war, 
whose  reputation  is  made  on  his  silly  blunders.  All 
his  titles  merely  prove  the  vileness  of  his  origin. 
Kleber,  Dubayet,  and  Marceau  are  wasting  away  in 
some  petty  position,  and  that  shopkeeper  Niort  com- 
mands both  the  armies ! 

RoBESPiEREE.  The  Republic  places  more  confidence 
in  a  commander  with  true  Republican  loyalty  than  in 
mere  military  heads. 

Westermann.  What  confidence  does  the  Republic 
place  in  RossignoPs  defeats? 

RoBESPiEEEE.  The  responsibility  for  them  does  not 
rest  on  RossignoPs  shoulders,  but  upon  those  who  are 
about  him.  If  Kleber,  Dubayet,  and  Westermann  are 
so  proud  of  their  ability,  why  do  they  not  put  it  at 
the  service  of  the  general  whom  the  nation  has  placed 
at  their  head.'' 

Westeemann.  So  you  want  to  deprive  us  of  our 
just  glory? 

ROBESFIEEEE.       YcS. 


DANTON  177 

Westermann.  Confess,  you  are  afraid  of  military 
glory !     You  want  to  minimize  it ! 

Robespierre.     Yes. 

Westermann  [with  a  sneer].  Lawyers  might  be 
jealous,  eh.'' 

Robespierre.  It  is  an  insult  to  reason,  and  a 
menace  to  freedom.  What  has  made  you  so  proud.? 
You  are  only  doing  your  duty.  Do  you  risk  your  life  ? 
The  heads  of  every  one  of  us  are  the  stakes  in  the 
desperate  game  we  are  playing  against  despotism.  Do 
you  deserve  any  more  credit  than  we  in  risking  your 
life?  We  are  all  devoted  to  liberty  or  to  death.  You, 
like  us,  are  an  instrument  of  the  Revolution,  the  great 
knife  that  is  to  cleave  a  way  through  the  enemy  for 
the  Republic.  It  is  a  terrible  task,  but  it  must  be 
accepted  bravely,  and  humbly.  You  have  no  more  right 
to  be  proud  of  your  cannon  than  we  of  our  guillotine. 

Westermann.     You  outrage  the  grandeur  of  war. 

Robespierre.  Nothing  is  grand  but  virtue.  No 
matter  where  it  resides — in  soldiers,  workingmen, 
legislators — the  Republic  honors  it  alone.  But  the 
criminals  must  tremble.  Nothing  protects  them  from 
its  just  wrath,  neither  their  titles  nor  their  swords. 

Westermann.     Are  you  threatening  me? 

Robespierre.  I  was  speaking  of  no  one  in  par- 
ticular.    On  his  head  be  it  who  recognizes  himself ! 

Westermann.  God  in  heaven!  [He  looks  threat- 
eningly at  Robespierre,  quivering  from  head  to  foot. 
He  turns  to  go,  then  swings  round.]  On  your  guard, 
Sylla !  My  head  sits  more  solidly  on  my  shoulders  than 
Custine's,     There    are    still    men    who    do    not    fear 


178  D  ANTON 

tyranny.  I  am  going  to  find  Danton.  [He  knocks 
against  the  wall  before  he  finds  the  door,  and  then 
rushes  out.  Eleonore  enters  from  the  door  leading 
to  the  Duplays'  apartments.] 

Eleonore.  He's  gone  at  last.  Oh,  Maximilien,  I 
was  so  worried  while  he  was  here! 

Robespierre  [affectionately].  My  dear  Eleonore. 
Were  you  listening? 

Eleonore.  That  man's  voice  frightened  me.  I 
couldn't  help  coming.  I  was  in  there,  in  Mamma's 
bath-room. 

Robespierre.  What  could  you  have  done  if  he  had 
attempted  violence? 

Eleonore  [embarrassed].     I — I  don't  know. 

Robespierre  [taking  her  hand  from  behind  her 
back].     What  is  this? 

Eleonore  [blushing],  A  pistol  that  Philippe  left 
on  the  table  last  night  when  he  came  home. 

Robespierre  [taking  the  pistol,  and  holding  her 
hand  in  his].  No,  no,  these  hands  must  not  be  soiled 
with  such  murderous  instruments!  They  must  not 
shed  blood,  even  to  save  my  life.  I  want  there  to 
remain  at  least  two  innocent  hands  in  all  the  world, 
to  purify  the  world  and  Robespierre's  heart — when  the 
work  is  at  last  done. 

Eleonore.  But  why  expose  yourself  to  such  dan- 
ger? You  provoked  that  man,  and  they  say  he  is 
cruel. 

Robespierre.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  swashbucklers. 
The  moment  you  take  them  from  the  field  of  battle 
they  merely  talk;  they  tremble  when  they  find  them- 


D  ANTON  179 

selves  in  the  presence  of  a  new  power,  one  they  never 
met  with  steel :  the  Law. 

Eleonoee.  Citizen  Fouche  also  called,  but  he  was 
not  admitted.     That  was  your  order. 

RoBESPiEEEE.  My  door  is  forever  closed  to  the  man 
who  dishonored  the  majesty  of  the  Terror  in  the  mas- 
sacres at  Lyon. 

Eleonoee.     He  did  not  want  to  go.    He  even  cried. 

RoBESFiEEEE  [scverely].     So  do  crocodiles. 

Eleonoee.  He  went  to  see  your  sister,  to  ask  her 
to  intercede  on  his  behalf. 

RoBESPiEEEE  [Ms  expressioTi  changing^.  Is  she 
coming?  The  fool  made  her  believe  he  was  in  love 
with  her !  She  does  not  respect  him,  but  that  sort  of 
attention  always  flatters  a  woman,  no  matter  who  the 
man  happens  to  be.  She  will  try  to  defend  him.  In 
the  name  of  Heaven,  don't  let  her  in.  Tell  her  I  am 
very  busy,  and  that  I  can  see  no  one. 

Eleonoee  [8miling'\,  You  brave  all  the  tyrants  of 
Europe,  but  you  are  afraid  of  your  own  sister ! 

Robespieeee  \^smiling^.  She  is  a  good  woman,  and 
she  loves  me  dearly.  But  she  is  so  tiresome!  Her 
continual  jealousy,  the  scenes  she  makes — they  drive 
me  mad!  I  think  I  would  agree  to  anything  to  keep 
her  quiet. 

Eleonoee.  Don't  worry ;  Mamma  knows,  and  won't 
let  her  in. 

Robespieeee.  My  dear  friends,  how  wonderfully 
you  take  care  of  me ! 

Eleonoee.  We  are  responsible  to  the  nation  for 
you. 


180  DANTON  ' 

RoBESFiEBEE.  What  a  pleasure  it  is  for  me  to  live 
here!  It's  a  feast  for  the  soul!  This  is  no  selfish 
retreat  from  the  tempests.  No,  the  door  is  opened  to 
all  the  care  and  troubles  of  the  nation;  they  assume 
a  certain  dignified  air  when  they  enter.  We  receive 
destiny  here,  without  flinching,  our  eyes  in  its  eyes. 
I  never  cross  the  threshold  without  breathing  the  air 
of  that  court,  with  the  smell  of  fresh-cut  wood,  peace, 
and  hope.  The  honest  face  of  Duplay,  your  mother's 
welcome  voice,  your  hand,  Eleonore,  extended  toward 
me  like  the  hand  of  brotherhood,  aU  the  loyal  affection 
you  have  for  me,  inspire  in  me  the  greatest,  the  rarest, 
thing  of  all,  the  thing  I  most  need  and  of  which  I 
always  had  least ! 

Eleonore.     What.? 

Robespierre.     Confidence. 

Eleonore.     Is  there  some  one  you  don't  trust.? 

Robespierre.  I  trust  no  man.  I  can  read  lies  in 
their  faces,  I  see  intrigue  in  their  protestations.  Their 
eyes,  their  mouths,  their  hands,  their  whole  body  lies. 
Suspicion  poisons  every  thought  I  have.  I  was  in- 
tended for  a  quieter  existence.  I  love  men,  and  I  wish 
to  believe  in  them.  But  how  can  I,  when  I  see  them 
perjure  themselves  ten  times  a  day,  sell  themselves, 
their  friends,  their  armies,  their  Patrie,  for  motives 
of  fear,  or  ambition,  or  viciousness,  or  malevolence 
pure  and  simple?  I  have  seen  Mirabeau,  Lafayette, 
Dumouriez,  Custine,  the  king,  the  aristocrats,  the 
Girondins,  the  Her^sists — all  of  them  betrayed  one 
after  the  other.  The  soldiers  would  have  surrendered 
the  nation  twenty  times  had  they  not  feared  the  guil- 


DANTON  181 

lotine  awaiting  them.  Three-fourths  of  the  members 
are  conspiring  against  the  Convention.  Vice  is  curbed 
under  the  heroic  discipline  imposed  by  the  Revolution. 
Its  allies  dare  not  attack  the  forces  of  virtue  in  broad 
daylight;  they  hide  under  masks  of  piety  and  mercy, 
in  order  to  influence  public  opinion,  and  deflect  it  in 
favor  of  rogues,  inciting  them  against  the  true  patriots. 
But  I  will  tear  their  masks  fronj  their  faces,  and  force 
the  Assembly  to  see  what  is  beneath:  the  hideous  face 
of  treason.  I  will  force  the  disguised  accomplices  of 
the  conspirators  to  condemn  them,  or  else  die  with 
them  myself.  The  Republic  will  be  victorious.  But, 
oh  God,  in  the  midst  of  what  devastation !  Vice  is  like 
the  Hydra:  every  drop  of  blood  that  falls  to  the 
ground  will  grow  up  into  another  monster.  The  best 
men  have  fallen  into  its  clutches ;  they  fall  as  if  stricken 
with  the  plague :  the  day  before  yesterday  it  was  Philip- 
peaux;  yesterday,  Danton;  today,  Desmoulins — Des- 
moulins,  my  friend  from  childhood,  my  brother !  Who 
will  be  the  next  traitor.? 

Eleonore.  Is  it  possible.?  So  much  treason! 
Have  you  the  proofs.? 

RoBESPiEERE.  Ycs,  morc  than  proofs:  moral  cer- 
tainty, that  infallible  light  which  never  deceives. 

Eleonore.  No,  you  cannot  be  mistaken :  you  know 
everything,  you  see  deep  into  people's  hearts.  Are 
they  all  corrupt.? 

Robespierre.  There  are  four  or  five  whom  I  re- 
spect: the  honest  Couthon,  who  thinks  nothing  of  his 
own  sufferings,  and  only  of  those  of  the  world;  the 
lovable  and  modest  Le  Bas ;  my  brother,  who  has  a 


182  DANTON 

good  heart  but  thinks  too  much  about  his  pleasure; 
two  children,  and  a  man  who  is  on  the  point  of  death. 

Eleonoee.     But  Saint- Just? 

RoBESPiEREE.  I  am  afraid  of  him.  Saint-Just  is 
the  living  sword  of  the  Revolution,  her  implacable 
weapon;  he  would  sacrifice  me,  as  he  has  the  others, 
to  his  immutable  law.  Everj'  one  else  conspires  against 
me.  They  dislike  my  clearsightedness,  they  are  jealous 
of  the  people's  love  for  me;  they  try  to  render  me 
odious  in  their  eyes.  The  proconsuls  of  Marseille 
and  Lyon  commit  atrocities  in  the  name  of  Robespierre. 
The  counter-revolution  now  preaches  clemency,  and 
again  terror.  If  I  release  my  hold  through  weariness, 
I  am  lost,  and  so  is  the  Republic.  Couthon  is  ill.  Le 
Bas  and  my  brother  are  two  stupids.  Saint-Just  is 
far  away,  and  holds  the  armies.  I  am  left  alone  sur- 
rounded by  traitors,  who  are  trying  all  the  while  to 
strike  me  from  behind.     They  will  kill  me,  Eleonore. 

Eleonoee  [taking  his  hand,  and  with  child-liJce  vi- 
vacity]. If  you  die,  you  will  not  die  alone.  [Robes- 
piEREE  looks  at  her  affectionatelt/,  and  she  bltishes.] 

RoBESFiEEEE.  My  dear  Eleonore,  no,  you  will  not 
die.  I  am  stronger  than  my  cowardly  enemies.  I 
have  Truth  on  my  side. 

Eleonoee.  You  are  so  worried,  and  yet  you  ought 
to  be  happy,  because  you  are  working  for  every  one's 
happiness.     How  unjust  life  is! 

RoBESPiEEEE.  Now  I  have  made  you  sad.  I  was 
wrong  to  shatter  your  illusions.     Forgive  me. 

Eleonoee.  Don't  be  sorry.  I  am  very  proud  of 
your  confidence  in  me.     All  night  long  I  thought  about 


DANTON  18S 

those  pages  from  Rousseau  you  read  us  yesterday. 
They  were  so  soothing.  I  heard  the  sound  of  your 
voice — and  those  beautiful  words.  I  know  them  by 
heart ! 

RoB£SPiERR£  [recitingy  with  an  air  of  affectionate 
melancholy,  and  with  great  sincerity],  "The  com- 
munion of  hearts  gives  to  sadness  something  inexplica- 
bly sweet  and  touching,  and  friendship  is  the  especial 
gift  to  the  unfortunate  for  the  assuagement  of  their 
woes  and  the  consolation  of  their  sufferings."  [Eleo- 
KoBE,  her  hand  in  his,  says  nothing,  hut  she  smiles  and 
blushes.]     You  say  nothing? 

Eleonobe  [reciting] .  "  Can  anything  that  one 
says  to  one's  friend  ever  equal  what  one  feels  by  his 
side.?  " 

Madame  Duplay  [outside],  Maximilien,  here  is 
Saint-Just.  [Eleonobe  runs  out.  Saint-Just  en- 
ters. RoBESPiEBBE  greets  him.  They  shake  hands  as 
if  they  had  been  separated  only  a  very  short  time.] 

Saint- Just.     How  are  you? 

RoBESPiEBBE.  How  are  you,  Saint- Just?  [They 
sit  dovm,] 

Saint- Just  [gazing  calmly  at  Robespiebbe]  .  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you  again. 

Robespiebbe.  Le  Bas  writes  us  that  it  was  only  by 
the  barest  chance  that  we  see  you  again. 

Saint- Just.  Yes.  [A  pause.]  We  need  arms 
there ;  the  army  lacks  muskets. 

Robespiebbe.  We  are  manufacturing  them.  All  of 
Paris  is  at  work.  They  have  set  up  blacksmith  shops 
in  the  churches.     All  other  work  is  at  a  standstill. 


184  DANTON 

You  must  have  seen  Duplay's  carpenters  making  the 
stocks  when  you  came  by.  Jewelers  are  making  the 
locks ;  there  are  forges  in  all  the  public  places. 

Saint-Just  [after  a  pause].  Food  is  very  scarce. 
Whole  divisions  are  out  of  provender.  We  have  very 
little  time;  the  campaign  begins  in  three  weeks  at  the 
latest.  All  the  blood  of  France  must  flow  to  the 
North. 

RoBESFiEBBE.  The  orders  have  been  given.  France 
is  starving  in  order  that  the  soldiers  may  have  enough 
to  eat. 

Saint-Just.  When  you  no  longer  need  my  advice, 
send  me  back.  The  first  engagements  will  be  decisive. 
Every  effort  must  be  made, ' 

RoBESPiEEEE.  Doesn't  the  life  you  lead  wear  you 
out? 

Saint- Just  [sincerely,  hut  mthout  emphasis].  It 
affords  me  some  rest  from  useless  discussion.  Thought 
and  action  out  there  are  identical,  like  thunder  and 
lightning.  Every  desire  immediately  becomes  a  fact, 
forever;  it  is  written  in  the  blood  of  men  and  the 
destiny  of  the  world.  The  task  is  a  truly  grand  one, 
and  the  agony  divine!  At  night,  in  the  snow,  at  the 
out-posts  of  the  army,  along  the  weary  stretches  of 
the  Flemish  plain,  under  the  vast  winter  sky,  I  feel  a 
thriU  of  joy  run  through  my  body,  and  my  heart's 
blood  throb  in  my  breast.  Alone,  lost  in  the  midst  of 
the  shadows  of  the  Universe,  surrounded  by  enemies, 
with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  we  are  the  guardians  of 
Reason,  the  living  Light.  We  are  decisive  factors  in 
the  destiny  of  the  world.     We  re-create  Man. 


DANTON  185 

Robespierre.  Happy  the  man  who  strives  on  the 
field  of  action,  and  is  not  forced  to  stay  at  home. 

Saint- Just.  Who  strives  more  than  you?  The 
liberty  of  the  world  is  here  in  Paris. 

Robespierre.  Here  we  have  the  agonizing  task  of 
stamping  out  viciousness.  It  soils  every  one  who  takes 
part  in  the  nasty  business.  I  must  confess,  when  I 
contemplate  the  vicious  crimes  which  the  torrent  of 
the  Revolution  rolls  along  with  all  its  virtue,  I  am 
afraid  that  I  shall  catch  up  some  of  the  nastiness  and 
be  identified  with  it  in  the  eyes  of  posterity.  Merely 
because  I  am  near  perverse  and  impure  men. 

Saint-Just.  Put  the  sword  between  yourself  and 
them.     You  should  touch  the  impure  only  with  steel. 

Robespierre.  The  corruption  is  spreading  every- 
where. Men  I  counted  on  most  have  succumbed.  Old 
friends. 

Saint-Just,  No  friends!  We  have  only  the 
Patriel 

Robespierre.  Danton  is  a  menace ;  he  is  under  sus- 
picion. He  has  uttered  violent  and  insulting  words. 
He  is  surrounded  by  conspirators,  debauchees,  ruined 
financiers,  degraded  officers.  Every  sort  of  malcontent 
has  joined  his  forces. 

Saint-Just.     Danton  must  go ! 

Robespierre.  Danton  was  once  a  Republican.  He 
loved  the  Patrie.     Perhaps  he  still  loves  her.'' 

Saint-Just.  No  one  respects  her  unless  he  proves 
it  by  austere  and  pure  living.  He  is  not  a  Republican 
who  possesses  aristocratic  vices  and  ideas.  I  hate 
Catiline.     His  cynical  heart,  his  cowardly  brain,  his 


186  DANTON 

ignoble  political  ideals — he  tries  to  please  all  parties 
in  order  to  use  them  for  his  own  ends — it  all  brings 
dishonor  upon  the  Republic.  Danton  must  be  laid 
low. 

Robespierre.  His  fall  will  carry  the  imprudent 
Desraoulins  along  with  him. 

Saint-Just.  That  impudent  pen-pusher!  Why, 
the  sufferings  of  the  Patrie  are  merely  an  excuse  for 
him  to  do  a  clever  piece  of  writing !  He's  a  dilettante, 
who  would  sacrifice  Liberty  for  a  pretty  antithesis! 

Robespierre.  A  child,  the  dupe  of  his  friends,  and 
of  his  own  mind. 

Saint-Just.  Cleverness  is  also  a  crime,  when 
Prance  is  in  danger.  The  misfortunes  of  the  State 
have  thrown  a  sad,  a  religious  air,  over  everything.  I 
am  suspicious  of  all  who  laugh. 

Robespierre.     But  I  love  Desmoulins. 

Saint-Just.  And  I  love  you,  but  if  you  were  a 
criminal,  I  would  accuse  you. 

Robespierre  [walks  away,  distressed.  He  returns 
after  a  moment's  silence].  Thank  you. — You  are 
happy;  you  never  hesitate.  You  never  compromise 
with  evil. 

Saint-Just.     I  have  seen  more  evil  than  you. 

Robespierre.     Where? 

Saint-Just.     Within  myself.  "* 

Robespierre  [surprised].  In  yourself,  you  whose 
life  is  an  example  of  self-sacrifice? 

Saint- Just.     You  don't  know! 

Robespierre  [incredulously].    Some — youthful  slip ? 

Saint- Just   [seriously].     I  have  been  to  the  brink 


DANTON  187 

of  the  abyss ;  I  saw  crime  down  below,  ready  to  devour 
me.  Ever  since  I  have  sworn  to  destroy  it  in  the 
world  at  large  and  within  myself. 

Robespierre.  Sometimes  I  tire  of  the  struggle. 
The  enemy  is  too  powerful.  Can  we  really  reform 
mankind?     Will  our  dream  be  realized.'' 

Saint-Just.  The  day  I  cease  to  believe  that,  I  shall 
kill  myself. 

Eleonore  [opening  the  door,  says  softlyl.  Here 
are  Billaud-Varenne  and  Vadier.  [They  enter.  Bel- 
laud-Varenne*s  head  droops  from  fatigue,  and  his 
eyes  are  heavy.  Vadier  compresses  his  lips,  and  is 
bitter  and  sardonic.  He  speaks  with  a  marked  South- 
ern accent  {which  is  not  indicated  in  the  text). 
Robespierre  and  Saint-Just  rise  and  coldly  greet  the 
newcomers.  They  bow,  but  do  not  offer  to  shake 
hands.] 

Billaud-Varenne.     Greetings  and  Fraternity! 

\AJiiER  [noticing  Saint- Jvst].  Saint- Just!  Good! 
We  shall  now  make  up  for  lost  time.  [Billaud- 
Varenne  and  Vadier  seat  themselves  unceremoniously. 
Saint-Just  walks  about.  Robespierre  remains  stand- 
ing, and  leans  against  the  window-sill.     After  a  pause.] 

Billaud-Varenne.  The  guillotine!  You  have 
waited  too  long,  Robespierre :  we  are  in  immediate  dan- 
ger. If  Danton  is  still  alive  tomorrow,  the  cause  of 
liberty  is  lost. 

Robespierre.     What  news? 

Billaud-Varenne  [with  papers  in  his  hand] .  Look. 
The  traitor  is  at  it  again. 

Robespierre.     Who? 


188.  DANTON 

Vadiee.  Your  friend,  Maximilien :  Camille,  dear 
Canaille. 

Robespierre.     Has  he  been  writing  again? 

Billaud-Varenne.  These  proofs  have  just  been 
seized.     Read. 

Vadier  [rubbing  his  hands'].  The  seventh  Vietuc 
Cordelier.  The  continuation  of  the  good  apostle's 
Credo. 

Robespierre.  The  idiot!  Will  he  not  learn  to 
hold  his  tongue? 

Billaud-Varenne  [like  a  monomaniac].  The  guil- 
lotine ! 

Saint-Just  [reading  the  proofs  with  Robespierre]. 
Like  a  prostitute,  who  cannot  but  bring  dishonor  upon 
herself. 

Robespierre.     And  Dan  ton? 

Billaud-Varenne.  Danton  is  at  it  again;  he  is 
speaking  at  the  Palais-Royal.  He  insults  Vadier,  and 
me,  and  all  the  patriots.  Desraoulins  is  with  him. 
They're  all  together  with  the  women  and  Westermann, 
too.  They  make  obscene  allusions  to  the  Committee. 
The  people  are  gathering  about  them,  and  laughing. 

Saint- Just.     You  hear,  Robespierre? 

Robespierre  [disdainfully] .  No  danger.  We  shall 
have  time  to  deliberate  in  peace  before  Danton  is 
through  drinking.  [Looking  again  at  the  proofs,] 
Why,  this  is  suicide ! 

Vadier.     He's  gone  too  far  this  time ! 

Billaud-Varenne.     His  head  should  follow! 

Saint- Just  [reading].  He  compares  the  members 
of  the  Convention  to  Nero  and  Tiberius. 


DANTON  l189 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [reading].  He  dares  to  say  that 
we  went  after  Custine  on  Pitt's  orders,  and  not  because 
Custine  was  a  traitor,  but  because  he  was  not  a  worse 
one. 

Vadiee  [reading].  "  The  Committee  will  reduce  the 
Assembly  to  the  servile  condition  of  a  parlement  the 
rebellious  members  of  which  are  to  be  thrown  into 
prison." 

Robespieeee  [correcting  them].  He  puts  "would 
reduce,"  and  not  "  will  reduce." 

Vadiee.     The  same  thing. 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [reading].  "  See  how  near  is  the 
Committee  to  ruining  the  Republic,  when  it  sends  two 
of  its  Deputies  which  it  cannot  bribe  to  the  Luxem- 
bourg.'' " 

Robespieeee.  He  says  "  it  can  send,"  and  not  **  it 
sends." 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [pettishly].  Don't  be  so  par- 
ticular ! 

Saint-Just  [reading].  He  has  the  effrontery  to 
maintain  that  "  the  War-office  appointed  as  heads  of 
the  armies  the  brothers  of  actresses  with  whom  they 
had  been  intimate." 

Vadiee.  Disorganizing  the  defense,  reviling  the  na- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  foreigners!  Can  nothing  stop  his 
vile  tongue! 

Billaud-Vaeenne.  And  the  whole  thing  bristling 
with  demands  for  clemency,  and  talk  about  humanity! 

Vadiee.     And  his  hypocritical  tears !     Bah ! 

Saint-Just.  There  is  no  plague  of  Egypt  like  a 
sentimental  man!     No  tyrant  brings   more  harm  to 


190  DANTON 

mankind.  The  traitors  of  the  Gironde  called  them- 
selves merciful,  too,  when  they  carried  the  torch  of 
rebellion  through  France. 

Robespierre.  Desmoulins  is  merely  weak,  he  is  not 
dangerous.     I  knew  him  as  a  child.     I  know  him  now. 

Billaud-Varenne  [suspiciously] .  Do  Robespierre's 
friends  enjoy  special  privileges? 

Vadier  [jeering^  as  he  reads  the  "  Vieuw  Cordelier  "]. 
And  listen  to  this,  Maximilien — this  is  for  you.  It 
seems  that  your  closing  the  houses  of  ill-fame  and  pre- 
tending to  be  so  zealous  in  reforming  the  world,  is 
merely  on  Pitt's  orders ;  because  you  "  thereby  deprive 
the  government  of  one  of  its  sources  of  income: 
licentiousness."  Do  you  hear  that,  oh  Incorruptible 
one.'' 

Saint-Just.     The  nasty  hypocritical  scoundrel! 

Billaud-Varenne  [violently].  The  guillotine! 
[He  falls,  with  his  head  on  the  tables  like  an  ox  that 
has  been  felled.] 

Robespierre,     Has  he  fainted.'' 

Vadier  [coldly].  Dizziness.  [Saint-Just  opens 
the  window,  and  Billaud-Varenne  comes  to.] 

Saint- Just.     Are  you  ill,  Billaud? 

Billaud-Varenne  [hoarsely].  Who  are  you.'* — 
Scoundrels ! — I'm  utterly  exhausted :  I  haven't  slept  for 
the  last  two  nights. 

Vadier.  He  spends  his  nights  at  the  Committee  and 
his  days  at  the  Assembly. 

Robespierre.  You  are  overworking.  Would  you 
like  some  one  to  take  your  place  for  a  few  days  ? 

Billaud-Varenne.     My    work    can't    be    done    by 


DANTON  191 

others.  Corresponding  with  the  various  departments, 
holding  every  string  of  France  in  my  hand:  no  one 
else  could  do  that.  If  I  stop  for  a  moment,  everything 
will  collapse.     No,  I  must  stay  until  I  drop. 

Saint-Just.     We  shall  all  die  at  our  posts. 

Billaud-Vaeenne.  Oh,  Nature,  thou  didst  not  cre- 
ate me  for  such  tempests!  My  soul  is  torn  by  these 
murderous  blasts  from  the  desert !  My  heart  is  too 
soft;  I  was  intended  for  sweeter  things:  retirement, 
friends,  a  family ! 

Vadiee  [ironicallz/] .  Let  us  not  become  sentimental, 
Billaud!    ' 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [becoming  violent  again].  Let 
us  purify  the  atmosphere!  To  the  guillotine  with 
Desmoulins ! 

Robespieeee.  It  is  I  who  should  give  the  example: 
I  wash  my  hands  of  Desmoulins. 

Vadiee  [laughing  to  himself].  Brutus,  oh,  mag- 
nanimous man,  virtuous  man,  I  knew  very  well  you 
would  never  hesitate  to  rid  yourself  of  a  friend ! 

Robespieeee.  The  fate  of  Desmoulins  is  bound  up 
with  that  of  another  man. 

Billaud-Vaeenne.  Are  you  afraid  to  mention 
Danton  by  name? 

Robespieeee.  I  am  afraid  to  break  a  talisman  of 
the  Republic. 

Vadiee.     Its  lucky  piece. 

Robespieeee.  Danton  is  my  enemy.  If  my  friend- 
ship counts  for  nothing  in  our  deliberations,  my  hatred, 
on  the  other  hand,  should  not  weigh  in  my  judgment. 
Before  entering  the  fray,  let  us  consider  in  cold  blood 


192  DANTON 

what  risks  we  incur  in  thus  dismantling  a  fortress  of 
the  Revolution. 

BiLiiAUD-VAKENNE.     A  fortrcss  for  sale! 

Vadiee.  The  scarecrow  of  the  Revolution!  In 
time  of  public  danger  such  monstrous  idols  are  brought 
out  to  rout  the  enemy.  He  rather  inspires  fear  in  the 
breast  of  those  who  hear  him.  His  hideous  face 
frightens  Liberty. 

RoBESPiEREE.  You  cauuot  deny  that  his  face  is 
known  and  feared  throughout  Europe. 

Vadier  [chaffingly'].  True,  and  like  a  good  sans- 
culotte he  cheerfully  shows  to  the  world  "  What 
Caesar  shamelessly  showed  to  Nicodemus  in  his  youth, 
and  what  long  ago  the  hero  of  Greece  admired  in 
Hephestos,  and  Hadrian  put  into  the  Pantheon." 

Saint- Just  [angrily].  Stop  your  nasty  joking! 
Would  you  make  war  on  corruption  with  corruption.'* 

Vadier.  Now,  you  aren't  going  to  make  me  recite 
Rousseau  to  you? 

Robespierre  [making  an  effort  at  impartialityl .  I 
think  it  no  more  than  right  to  take  Danton*s  past 
services  into  account. 

Saint-Just.  The  more  good  a  man  does,  the 
greater  his  obligation  to  continue.  Woe  be  unto  him 
who  has  once  defended  the  cause  and  the  people,  and 
abandons  them  afterward!  He  is  a  greater  criminal 
than  the  man  who  consistently  fought  against  it.  For 
he  once  knew  the  good,  and  has  wilfully  betrayed  it. 

Robespierre.  Hebert's  death  stirred  up  public 
sympathy.  The  police  reports  I  received  inform  me 
that  our  enemies  are  profiting  by  the  confusion  of  the 


DANTON  •  198 

people,  who  have  been  suddenly  enlightened,  in  order 
to  shake  their  faith  in  their  true  friends.  Everything 
nowadays  is  open  to  suspicion ;  even  the  memory  of 
Marat.  We  must  be  prudent,  and  take  care  not  to 
add  to  the  general  suspicion  by  internal  quarrels. 

Saint-Just.  Let  us  put  an  end  to  suspicion  with 
the  death  of  the  suspects. 

Vadier  [aside,  glancing  at  Robespierre].  The 
coward !  He's  afraid  to  touch  his  aristocratic  friends ! 
Cromwell  keeps  with  the  majority!  If  he  persists  I'll 
guillotine  a  hundred  toads  in  his  pond ! 

Robespierre.  A  head  like  his  does  not  fall  without 
making  the  State  feel  it. 

Billaud-Varenne  [suspiciousli/  and  with  violence^. 
Are  you  afraid,  Robespierre  ? 

Vadier  [inciting  Billaud-Varenne]  .  Ask  him, 
Billaud,  if  he  uses  Danton  like  a  mattress  to  hide  be- 
hind, and  escape  the  bullets? 

Billaud-Varenne  [brutally^.  Speak  out:  You  are 
afraid  of  being  exposed  by  Danton's  fall?  You  stick 
close  to  him!  Danton  diverts  the  attention — and  the 
blows — from  you,  eh? 

Robespierre.  I  take  no  notice  of  such  slander. 
What  do  I  care  for  the  dangers?  What  is  my  life 
to  me?  But  I  have  some  experience  from  the  past,  and 
I  am  looking  into  the  future.  You  are  bloodthirsty 
monsters ;  your  hatred  blinds  you.  You  think  of  your- 
selves, and  not  of  the  Republic. 

Saint-Just.  Let  us  calmly  consider  what  the  Re- 
public owes  to  the  conspirators.  Let  us  not  ask 
whether  Danton  is  talented,  but  whether  his  talents 


194  D  ANTON 

serve  the  Republic.  Where  have  these  attacks  of  the 
past  three  months  come  from?  Danton.  Who  in- 
spired Philippeaux's  letters  against  the  Committee? 
Danton.  Who  dictates  Desmoulins'  pamphlets?  Dan- 
ton.  Each  number  of  the  Vieux  Cordelier  is  submitted 
to  him;  he  corrects  the  manuscript  in  his  own  hand. 
If  the  river  is  poisoned,  let  us  stop  it  at  the  source. 
Where  is  Danton's  sincerity?  Where  is  his  bravery? 
What  has  he  done  the  past  year  for  the  Republic? 

Robespierre  [pretending  to  he  convinced,  and 
speaking  with  a  mixture  of  sincerity  and  hypocrisy^. 
It  is  true  he  never  spoke  for  The  Mountain  when  it 
was  attacked. 

Saint-Just.  No,  but  he  did  for  Dumourlez,  and  the 
generals  who  were  his  accomplices.  The  Jacobins  de- 
fended him;  you,  too,  Robespierre.  But  when  you 
were  accused,  did  he  say  a  word? 

Robespierre.  No,  and  when  he  saw  me  deserted,  a 
victim  of  the  slanders  of  the  Gironde,  he  said  to  his 
friends :  "  Since  he  wishes  to  ruin  himself,  let  him !  Let 
us  not  share  his  lot!"  But  do  not  drag  me  into  the 
discussion. 

Billaud-Varenne.  You  yourself  told  me,  Robes- 
pierre, that  he  did  all  he  could  to  save  the  Girondins, 
and  to  strike  Hanriot,  who  arrested  the  traitors. 

Robespierre.     That  is  true. 

Saint-Just.  And  you  told  me,  Robespierre,  that 
he  was  base  enough  to  confess  his  embezzlements,  and 
Fabre's — his  secretary — during  his  brief  administra- 
tion as  Minister  of  Justice. 

Robespierre.     I  don't  deny  that. 


DANTON  195 

Saint-Just.  He  was  Lafayette's  friend.  Mirabeau 
bought  him.  He  corresponded  with  Dumouriez  and 
Wimpfen.  He  flattered  Orleans.  Every  enemy  of  the 
Revolution  was  on  familiar  terms  with  him. 

Robespierre.     You  must  not  exaggerate! 

Saint-Just.  You  yourself  told  me.  I  should  never 
have  known  otherwise. 

Robespierre.     Of  course,  but — 

Billaud-Varenne  [violently].     Do  you  deny  it.-* 

Robespierre.  I  cannot.  Danton  was  an  assiduous 
member  of  those  Royalists  gatherings,  where  Orleans 
himself  mixed  the  punch.  Fabre  and  Wimpfen,  too, 
were  present.  They  tried  to  bring  the  Deputies  of 
the  Mountain,  to  seduce  and  compromise  them.  But 
that  was  of  no  importance. 

Billaud-Varenne.  On  the  contrary!  It  was  high 
treason.     Out  and  out  conspiracy ! 

Robespierre.  I  have  just  thought  of  a  small  detail. 
It  seems  that  lately  he  boasted  that  if  he  were  accused 
he  would  throw  the  blame  on  us  for  the  Dauphin  affair. 

Billaud-Varenne.  The  blackguard !  Did  he  say 
that?     And  you  defend  him? 

Robespierre.  Westermann  just  left  this  room. 
He  threatened  me  with  Danton,  and  an  uprising. 

Billaud-Varenne.  And  we  sit  here  talking!  The 
marauders  are  still  at  large ! 

Robespierre.     Do  you  want  him? 

Saint-Just.     The  nation  wants  him. 

Vadier  [aside].  The  hypocrite!  He  wants  him, 
too  I     But  we  must  persuade  him ! 

Robespierre.     He  was  a  great  man.     At  least,  he 


196  DANTON 

had  the  air  of  a  great  man,  and  at  times  he  even  seemed 
a  good  and  virtuous  man. 

Saint-Just.  Nothing  so  resembles  virtue  as  a  great 
crime. 

Vadier  [sarcasticallt/] .  You  will  deliver  his  funeral 
oration  later  on,  Maximilien.  But  now  let  us  bring 
down  the  beast. 

Saint-Just.     Vadier,  you  must  respect  death. 

Vadiee.     But  the  little  fellow  is  still  alive. 

Saint-Just.     Danton  is  already  doomed. 

Billaud-Varenne.  Who  will  take  it  upon  himself 
to  accuse  him.? 

Vadier.  Saint-Just.  The  young  man  does  it  so 
well.  Every  sentence  of  his  is  as  good  as  a  stroke  of 
the  guillotine. 

Saint-Just.  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to 
attack  the  monster. 

Robespierre  [getting  papers,  which  he  gives  to 
Saint-Just].     Here  are  the  notes,  all  ready  for  you. 

Vadier  [aside].  He  has  a  whole  portfolio  like  that 
for  each  of  his  friends. 

Robespierre.  Let  us  not  honor  Danton  by  trying 
him  alone :  it  would  attract  too  much  attention. 

Billaud-Varenne.  Let  us  overwhelm  him  in  a  gen- 
eral accusation. 

Vadier.  Whom  shall  we  put  with  him,  to  fill  out 
the  menu? 

Saint-Just.  Every  one  who  has  tried  to  corrupt 
the  cause  of  Liberty  by  means  of  money,  evil  example, 
or  brains. 

Vadier.     Let  us  be  clear.     You're  too  vague. 


DANTON  197 

RoBESPiEREE.  Danton  loved  gold.  Let  him  be 
buried  with  gold.  Let  us  implicate  him  in  the  bank 
affair.  Put  him  in  with  the  embezzlers.  He  will  find 
himself  in  company  with  his  friend,  his  secretary,  his 
Fabre  d'Eglantine. 

Vadiee.  Fabre,  Chabot,  the  Jews,  the  Austrian 
bankers,  the  Freys,  and  the  Diederischens — ^good.  We 
begin  to  have  an  imposing  list. 

Billaud-Varenne.  It  might  be  well  to  add 
Herault,  the  friend  of  the  emigres. 

Saint-Just.  Philippeaux,  above  all,  the  disorgan- 
izer  of  the  army,  the  destroyer  of  discipline. 

Robespierre.  Westermann,  with  his  bloody  sword, 
always  ready  for  an  insurrection.     Is  that  all? 

Vadier.     You  forget  dear  Camille. 

Robespierre.  Wouldn't  you  prefer  Bourbon,  or 
Legendre,  the  mouthpieces  of  the  enemy  in  the  As- 
sembly.'* 

Vadier.     No — Camille. 

Billaud-Varenne.     Camille. 

Saint- Just.     Justice ! 

Robespierre.     Take  him. 

Saint-Just.  Good-by  for  the  present.  I  must  pre- 
pare my  report.  I  shall  strike  them  tomorrow  at  the 
Convention. 

Vadier.  No,  no,  young  man.  Your  youthful  im- 
prudence is  running  away  with  you.  Would  you  call 
Danton  into  court? 

Saint-Just.  Danton  believes  that  no  one  will  dare 
attack  him  face  to  face.     I  shall  undeceive  him. 

Vadier.     Your  good  intentions,  ray  friend,  are  not 


198  DANTON 

enough.  You  must  have  lungs  deep  enough  to  drown 
out  the  roarings  of  that  bull ! 

Saint-Just.     Truth  will  overcome  tempests. 

RoBESPiEERE.  We  cannot  expose  the  Republic  in 
an  open  argument  like  that. 

Saint- Just.  What  then?  [Robespieere  does  not 
answer.'] 

BiiiLAUD-VAEENNE.  Have  Danton  arrested  to- 
night. 

Saint-Just  [violently].     Never! 

Vadiee.     The  end  justifies  the  means! 

Saint-Just.  I  never  strike  an  unarmed  enemy.  I 
will  face  Danton  willingly.  Combats  like  that  can 
only  bring  honor  to  the  Republic ;  but  your  suggestion 
is  dishonorable.     Ignoble! 

Billaud-Vaeenne.  The  enemies  of  the  people  de- 
serve no  consideration! 

Vadiee.  Useless  bravery  in  politics  is  always 
stupid,  and  sometimes  treasonable. 

Saint-Just.  I  won't  have  it!  [He  throws  his  cap 
to  the  floor.] 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [severely].  Do  you  then  prefer 
the  fight  to  the  welfare  of  the  Republic? 

Saint-Just.  Such  attempts  require  danger;  it 
sanctifies  them.  A  Revolution  is  a  heroic  enterprise, 
in  which  the  leaders  walk  between  the  guillotine  and 
immortality.  We  should  be  criminals  if  we  were  not 
ready  to  sacrifice  our  lives,  and  the  lives  of  the  others, 
at  any  moment. 

Vadiee.  Never  worry ;  you  are  risking  enough  as  it 
is.     If  Danton  were  a  prisoner  he  would  incite  the 


DANTON  199 

people;  and  never  doubt,  if  he  is  victorious,  he  will 
send  you  to  the  block. 

Saint-Just.  I  despise  the  dust  I  am  made  of.  My 
heart  is  the  only  thing  that  really  belongs  to  me,  and 
I  will  pass  through  life,  through  blood  and  murder, 
without  sullying  its  purity. 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [with  hard  and  disdainful  se- 
verity]. Self-esteem  is  pure  selfishness.  It  makes  no 
difference  to  us  whether  Saint-Just's  heart  is  sullied 
or  not ;  we  are  saving  the  Republic. 

Saint- Just  [with  an  inquiring  look  at  Robesfierse]. 
Robespierre ! 

Robespieree.  My  friend,  you  need  fear  nothing  so 
far  as  your  soul  is  concerned.  The  storm  and  stress 
of  a  Revolution  are  not  dealt  with  according  to  ordinary 
processes  of  law;  we  cannot  apply  moral  standards 
to  the  force  that  is  now  shaping  the  world  on  a  new 
foundation.  Of  course,  we  must  be  just ;  but  the  indi- 
vidual conscience  cannot  judge:  only  the  public  con- 
science matters.  Our  light  is  in  the  people:  its  salva- 
tion is  our  law.  We  have  but  one  question  to  ask 
ourselves :  do  the  people  want  Danton  put  down  ?  Once 
that  question  is  decided,  the  whole  matter  is  ended. 
We  must  wage  war  to  win.  Justice  means  that  that 
which  is  just  shall  triumph.  We  cannot  wait :  Danton 
must  be  laid  low.  To  allow  him  to  arm  himself  would 
be  to  offer  our  breast  to  the  dagger  of  an  assassin; 
military  and  financial  despotism  would  rule  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  civil  wars  lay  waste  our  land  for  a  hundred 
years.  We  would  be  hated  in  history,  though  we  de- 
serve to  be  loved. 


200  DANTON 

Billaud-Vaeenn?:.  We  must  win  at  all  costs ! 
Every  one  must  tremble  with  fear  at  our  terrible  dic- 
tatorship ! 

Vadiee.  This  is  not  a  question  of  whether  one  man 
shall  or  shall  not  be  judged  according  to  law,  but 
whether  all  Europe  is  to  become  Jacobin  or  not. 

Saint-Just  [his  hands  to  his  breast,  resemhling  Da- 
vid's "  Robespierre"  in  his  picture  of  the  "  Tennis- 
Court  Oath"].  Oh,  Republic,  take  my  honor  if  you 
will,  take  me  and  devour  me ! 

,  Billaud-Vaeenne  [sharpli/].  Perhaps  at  this  very 
moment  the  Republic  is  choking;  our  ideas  are  fruit- 
less ;  Reason  is  dying.     Quick ! 

RoBESPiEEEE.  Arrcst  Danton.  [He  signs  a  paper. 
Billaud-Vaeenne  also  signs,  in  feverish  haste.] 

Saint-Just.     For  you.  Liberty!     [He  signs.] 

Billaud-Vaeenne.     The  Convention  won't  object? 

Robespieeee  [disdainfully].  The  Convention  is  al- 
ways ready  to  sacrifice  its  members  for  the  public 
welfare. 

Vadiee  [signing].     Leave  this  matter  to  me. 

Robespieeee  [with  a  sigh].  The  Revolution  weighs 
heavier  on  our  shoulders  than  ever. 

Vadiee  [aside].  The  cat-tiger  has  scruples,  but  he 
licks  his  chops  all  the  same! 

Robespieeee.  A  regrettable  necessity.  V^e  muti- 
late the  Republic  in  order  to  save  her. 

Saint- Just  [somber  and  exalted].  The  philosopher 
Jesus  said  to  his  disciples :  "  And  if  thy  right  hand 
offend  thee,  cut  it  off,  and  cast  it  from  thee ;  for  it  is 
profitable  for  thee  that  one   of  thy  members   should 


DANTON  201 

perish,  and  not  that  thy  whole  body  should  be  cast 
into  hell."  And  I  say  to  you :  if  your  friend  is  corrupt, 
and  corrupts  the  Republic,  cast  him  from  the  Republic ; 
if  your  brother  is  corrupt  and  corrupts  the  Republic, 
cast  him  from  the  Republic.  And  if  the  blood  of  the 
Republic,  if  your  own  blood,  flows  from  a  gaping 
wound,  let  it  flow.  The  Republic  must  be  purified,  or 
die !  The  Republic  is  virtue.  If  that  virtue  be  stained, 
the  Republic  ceases  to  exist. 

Vadiee  [aside].  They  are  all  mad.  They  ought  to 
be  put  into  strait-jackets.  They  must  be  put  in  cells. 
— On,  then !     [He  starts  to  go.] 

Billaud-Varenne.     Wait  until  I  sign. 

Vadiee.     You  have  already  signed. 

Billaed-Vaeenne.  Where?  I  don't  remember. 
What  have  I  done?  Was  I  right?  Tristis  est  anima 
mea!  Oh,  if  I  could  only  stretch  out  in  the  fields,  on 
the  fresh  earth;  smell  the  scent  of  the  woods;  see  a 
brook  running  between  banks  of  willows !  Rest ! 
Rest — 

Robespieeee.  The  founders  of  the  Republic  have 
no  rest  this  side  the  grave. 


ACT  III 

{_The  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

The  Public  Prosecutor  Fouquier-Tinville; 
Herman,  the  Judge^  the  Jury^  gendarmes,  amS 
the  People^  are  present.  On  the  prisoners^  bench 
are  Danton,  Desmoui-ins,  Herault,  Philip- 
PEAUx,  Westermann,  Chabot  and  the  brothers 
Frey — the  last  two  of  whom  do  not  speak — and 
Fabre  D'EoiiANTiNE,  who  sits  in  an  arm-chair  in 
their  midst.  In  the  front  row  with  the  public^ 
sits  the  painter  David  and  some  of  his  friends. 
The  windows  of  the  room  are  open,  and  through 
them  the  shouts  of  the  crowd  are  heard.  From 
time  to  time,  Vadier's  head  is  seen  peering  through 
the  wicket  in  the  door,  behind  the  Judge,  watching 
the  trial.  General  Hanriot  stands  at  the  door. 
Herman  and  Fouquier-Tinville  cast  ananous 
glances  toward  him  every  few  moments. 

Chabot  and  the  brothers  Frey  are  being  ques- 
tioned, and  Danton  is  boiling  with  rage.  Des- 
MOULiNS  appears  crushed  and  discouraged.  He- 
eault  calmly  looks  on,  smiling.  Philippeaux, 
jaws  set  and  eyes  riveted  on  his  judges,  prepares 
his  defense.  Fabre  d'Eglantine,  who  is  ill  and 
suffering,  sits  back  in  his  chair.  The  crowd  jostle 
and  push,  following  the  trial  with  great  interest. 
They  emphasize  with  their  remarks  and  shouting 


DANTON  203 

each  development  in  the  trial,  like  an  audience  at 
a  melodrama — amused  and  moved  at  the  same 
time.] 

Judge  [to  the  brothers  Frey].  You  are  an  agent 
of  Pitt.  You  have  tried  to  corrupt  the  Convention. 
In  order  to  further  your  speculations  and  corrupt 
practices,  you  tried  to  bribe  the  representatives  of  the 
people.  You  have  put  a  price  on  the  conscience  of 
every  one  you  wished  to  buy. 

Danton  [bursting  forth].  Judge,  I  demand  a 
wordl 

Judge.     Your  turn  will  come,  Danton. 

Danton.  What  have  I  to  do  with  all  this  nasti- 
ness?     What  have  I  to  do  with  these  thieves? 

Judge.     You  will  be  informed. 

Danton.  My  natural  decency  prevents  my  crush- 
ing those  scoundrels.  You  know  that  very  well,  and 
you  take  advantage  of  my  silence  in  order  to  associate 
me  in  the  minds  of  the  people  with  underhanded  swin- 
dlers and  embezzlers. 

Heeault.     Calm  yourself,  Danton. 

Judge.  You  must  respect  the  law.  You  will  have 
a  chance  to  explain  later. 

FouQuiER-TiNvii>LE.  Quiet,  Danton.  You  will 
have  to  answer  the  charges,  together  with  the  rest  who 
are  accused  with  you. 

Danton.  Danton  must  not  be  tried  for  corruption 
after  a  pack  of  blackguards.  You  might  at  least  give 
him  first  place.  Danton  refuses  to  be  second  in  any- 
thing whatsoever,  in  virtue  or  in  vice. 


204  DANTON 

Phllippeaux.  Don't,  Danton.  You  must  be  pru- 
dent. 

Judge  [to  the  brothers  Feey].  You  are  Jews  by 
birth,  and  you  came  originally  from  Moravia;  your 
name  is  Tropuscka.  You  took  the  name  of  Schoen- 
feld,  under  which  you  bought  patents  of  nobility  in 
Austria,  and  for  the  time  being  called  yourself  Frey. 
One  of  your  sisters  was  baptized,  and  is  now  being 
kept  by  a  German  baron.  The  other  married  Chabot, 
a  former  priest,  and  now  a  representative  in  the  Con- 
vention. You  have  associated  yourself  with  certain 
other  adventurers  of  doubtful  birth  like  yourself: 
Diederischen,  who  came  originally  from  Holstein,  and 
was  employed  in  a  Viennese  bank;  Gusman,  called  the 
Spaniard,  who  passed  as  a  German  nobleman;  the 
former  Abbe  d'Espagnac,  an  army  contractor.  With 
the  help  of  certain  deputies  whom  you  had  bribed,  you 
prospered.  Chabot  served  as  a  go-between  for  you 
and  his  colleagues.  He  put  his  own  price  at 
150,000  livres.  He  gave  Fabre  d'Eglantine  100,000 
of  the  sum,  and  Fabre  altered  the  Convention's 
decree  relative  to  the  Compagnie  des  Indes. 
I  am  submitting  the  original  document  to  the 
jury. 

Vadiee  [stealthilr/  opening  the  wicket  and  beckoning 
to  Hanriot].     Is  all  well,  Hanriot? 

Haneiot  [iw  an  undertone].  Everything  will  be 
satisfactory. 

Vadiee  [pointing  to  Fouquiee-Tinville  and  the 
Court].     They  are  not  baulking? 

Hansiot.     Don't  worry.     I  have  my  eye  on  them. 


DANTON  205 

Vadbek.  Good.  And  don't  hesitate;  if  the  prose- 
cutor flinches,  arrest  him.      [He  closes  the  reicket.] 

Heeault  [looking  at  the  crowd].  See  the  people 
gape  at  us ! 

Danton  [really  ashamed^  but  with  a  forced  laiigh]. 
They're  not  used  to  seeing  this  old  face  of  mine  on 
this  infamous  bench.  It's  not  an  ordinary  sight! 
Danton  at  the  mercy  of  a  pack  of  charlatans.  Ha, 
ha!  I  must  laugh!  Look  at  David  over  there;  his 
tongue  sticks  out  from  sheer  hatred,  like  a  dog's. 
Good  God,  Camille,  pull  yourself  together!  What  the 
devil,  the  people  are  looking  at  us ! 

Camille.     Ah,  Danton,  I  shall  never  see  my  Lucile 


agam 


Danton.  Nonsense!  You'll  sleep  in  her  arms  to- 
night. 

Camille.  Get  me  away  from  here,  Danton ;  save  me. 
I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  can  never  defend  my- 
self! 

Danton.  Weaker  than  a  girl !  Keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip,  and  remember  that  we  are  making  history. 

Camille.     What  do  I  care  for  history? 

Danton.  If  you  want  to  see  Lucile,  don't  sit  there 
looking  like  a  criminal !  What  the  devil  are  you  look- 
ing at? 

Camille.     Look,  Danton,  there — 

Danton.     What?     What  is  it? 

Camille.     Near  the  window — that  young  man — 

Danton.  That  impudent  rascal,  with  a  shock  of 
hair  over  his  eyes,  that  law-clerk  with  his  arm  around 
a  woman's  waist? 


806  DANTON 

Camille.  Nothing — nothing — hallucinations :  I  saw, 
I  thought  I  saw — myself — 

Danton.     Yourself? 

Camille.  I  imagined  I  was  in  his  place,  at  the 
trial  of  the  Girondins — my  victims —  Oh,  Danton! 
[Meanwhile  the  documents  have  been  handed  to  all  the 
jurymen.^ 

Judge.     Fabre,  do  you  still  deny  the  accusations? 

Fabee  d'Eglantine  [quietly,  ironically,  hut  wea- 
rily^. There  is  no  need  of  my  explaining  it  all  again: 
you  would  refuse  to  listen;  you  have  already  made  up 
your  mind.  I  showed  you  just  now  that  the  true 
version  of  the  decree  which  I  made  out  had  been 
changed,  added  to,  and  corrected,  by  traitors.  That 
is  evident  to  any  one  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  look 
at  the  papers  dispassionately  and  in  a  spirit  of  justice. 
But  there  is  no  one  of  that  sort  here :  I  know  very  well 
that  I  was  condemned  in  advance.  I  was  unlucky 
enough  to  incur  Robespierre's  displeasure,  and  it  is 
your  business  to  pander  to  his  egotism.  I  know  this 
is  the  end.  But  I  am  tired  of  life,  it  has  brought  me 
too  much  suffering  for  me  to  make  an  effort  to  preserve 
it. 

FouQUiEE-TiNviLLE.  You  are  outraging  justice, 
and  you  slander  Robespierre.  It  is  not  Robespierre 
who  accuses  you  of  corruption:  it  is  Cambon.  It  is 
not  Robespierre  who  accuses  you  of  conspiracy:  it  is 
Billaud-Varenne.  Your  propensity  for  intrigue  is  well- 
known.  It  has  often  led  you  to  plot  and  conspire  and 
write  dangerous  plays. 

Fabre     d'Eglantine.     Silence!     Ne     sutor    ultra 


DANTON  207 

crepidam.  Messieurs,  jou  my  audience,  I  call  you  to 
witness:  have  not  my  plays  diverted  you?  Fouquier 
can  take  my  head  from  me,  but  not  my  Philmte! 

FouQuiER-TiNviLLE.  Some  abnormal  form  of  curi- 
osity has  led  you  to  consider  the  Nation's  Assembly 
as  a  theater,  where  you  sought  to  play  upon  the  secret 
springs  of  the  soul.  You  made  use  of  everything:  the 
ambition  of  certain  people,  the  laziness  of  others; 
anxiety,  envy,  everything  suited  your  ends.  This  impu- 
dent cleverness  of  yours  has  revealed  you  as  the  leader 
of  an  organized  counter-revolution,  either  because 
your  effrontery  or  your  brazen  humor  were  pleased  to 
run  counter  to  the  established  order — through  your 
unhealthy  disdain  of  reason — or  rather  your  confessed 
aristocratic  ideas,  and  your  cupidity — nourished  for 
a  long  time  by  money  from  Pitt  for  the  ruin  of  the 
Republic.  In  'ninety-two  you  were  discovered  con- 
spiring with  the  enemy.  Danton  sent  you  to  Du- 
mouriez  in  order  to  carry  on  your  criminal  negotia- 
tions, which  saved  the  Prussians,  who  were  practically 
defeated.  This  now  brings  us  to  the  other  prisoners. 
I  must  leave  you  now,  as  they  are  anxious  for  me  to 
tear  away  their  masks.  I  shall  come  to  you  again 
before  long,  and  show  the  center  of  this  vast  network 
of  intrigues.  [The  prisoners  are  agitated,  and  the 
spectators  become  more  attentive.  Danton  is  seen 
speaking  words  of  encouragement  to  his  friends.^ 

Fabre  d'Eglantine  [impertinently,  to  Fouquier- 
Tinville].  The  plot  was  not  well  thought  out,  and 
the  intrigue  confusing ;  too  many  characters ;  you  can't 
tell  where  they  come  from,  and  you  know  only  too  well 


208  DANTON 

where  they  are  going.  Why  talk  so  much  about  them  ? 
Your  play  is  execrable,  Fouquier.  You  had  much 
better  chop  off  my  head  at  once :  I  have  the  tooth-ache. 

Judge  [to  Herault  de  Sechelles].  Prisoner, 
your  name  and  occupation? 

Herault.  Formerly  Herault-Sechelles.  Former 
Attorney-general  at  the  Chatelet:  I  once  sat  in  the 
present  room.  Former  President  of  the  Convention :  in 
its  name  I  inaugurated  the  Republican  Constitution. 
Former  member  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety; 
once  the  friend  of  Saint-Just  and  of  Couthon,  who  are 
now  murdering  me. 

Judge.  You  are  an  aristocrat.  Your  fortune 
dates  from  your  relations  with  the  Court,  and  from 
the  time  you  were  presented  to  the  Capet  woman  by 
the  Polignac  woman.  You  have  been  in  constant  com- 
munication with  the  emigres;  you  were  the  friend  of 
Proly  the  Austrian,  the  bastard  son  of  the  Prince  of 
Kaunitz,  who  was  sent  to  the  guillotine  last  month. 
You  have  divulged  the  secrets  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety,  and  sent  important  papers  to  foreign 
courts;  you  sheltered  under  your  roof,  in  direct  viola- 
tion of  the  law,  the  former  war  commissioner  Catus, 
who  was  wanted  on  the  charge  of  being  an  emigre  and 
a  conspirator.  You  were  even  so  audacious  as  to 
follow  him  and  defend  him  in  the  Lepelletier  section 
where  he  was  arrested. 

Hebault.  I  deny  one  thing:  I  never  divulged  state 
secrets,  and  I  defy  you  to  prove  the  accusation.  The 
rest  is  true,  I  am  proud  to  confess. 

JuDG^.     Have  you  any  explanation  to  make? 


DANTON  «09 

Herault.  None  at  all.  I  had  friends,  and  no 
power  in  the  State  could  prevent  my  caring  for  them 
and  helping  them  when  they  needed  help. 

Judge.  You  were  once  President  of  the  Conven- 
tion. It  was  your  duty  to  furnish  an  example  of 
obedience  to  the  nation. 

Heeault.  I  now  offer  them  an  example  of  another 
sort:  sacrificing  my  life  for  my  duty. 

Judge.     Is  that  all  you  have  to  say? 

Heeault.     That  is  all. 

Fouquier-Tinville.     The  next,  Herman! 

Judge  [to  Desmouuns,  who  is  next].  Your  name 
and  occupations? 

Camille  [nervously].  Lucie-Camille-Simplice  Des- 
moulins,  Deputy  to  the  Convention. 

Judge.     How  old  are  you? 

Camille.  As  old  as  the  sans-culotte  Jesus  when 
he  was  crucified:  thirty-three. 

Judge.  You  are  accused  of  having  sought  to  bring 
discredit  upon  the  Republic.  You  have  spoken  libel- 
ously  of  the  actions  of  the  State,  and  compared  the 
glory  of  our  time  to  the  nastiness  of  the  Roman  em- 
perors. You  have  reawakened  the  hopes  of  the  aris- 
tocrats, excited  suspicion  against  those  who  saw  the 
necessity  of  putting  down  rebellion,  and  undermined 
the  work  of  national  defense.  Under  your  mask  of 
humanity,  which  is  belied  by  your  character  as  already 
known,  you  have  tried  to  release  from  prison  the  sus- 
pects, and  overwhelm  the  State  with  a  counter-revolu- 
tion.    What  have  you  to  say  in  your  defense? 

Camille  [deeply  agitated^  tries  to  answer,  but  can 


210  DANTON 

only  stutter.  He  puts  his  hand  to  his  forehead.  His 
friends  look  at  him  in  ananeti/].  I  ask  for  mercy.  I 
don't  know  what's  the  matter — with  me!  I — I  can't 
speak. 

Judge.     Do  you  confess  having  done  these  things  ? 

CAMILI.E.     No,  no. 

Judge.     Then  defend  yourself. 

Camille.  I  cannot.  Excuse  me.  I — I  am  ill. 
[His  friends  press  about  him.  He  sits  down,  breath- 
ing hardy  and  mops  his  forehead  with  a  handkerchief. 
The  Judge  shrugs  his  shoulders.^ 

FouQuiER-TiNviLLE.     Do  you  confess  or  not.? 

Philippeaux.     Read  the  seditious  passages. 

Danton.  Yes,  read  them;  dare  read  them  before 
the  people.  Let  them  judge  where  their  friends 
stand ! 

Judge.  I  have  sufficiently  indicated  them.  There 
is  no  need  of  again  calling  public  attention  to  such 
dangerous  sentiments. 

Danton.  For  whom  are  they  dangerous  ?  For  cut- 
throats ? 

FouQuiEE-TiNvn-LE.  T  see  your  course  has  been  pre- 
pared in  advance.     We  shall  pay  no  attention  to  it. 

Camille  [in  agony].  I  am  ashamed — I  beg  your 
pardon,  all  of  you.  I  haven't  slept  for  several  nights ; 
all  these  charges  against  me — !  I'm  not  master  of 
myself — I  can't  speak.  Give  me  a  breathing-spell. 
I — I  feel  dizzy. 

FouQUiER-TiNViLLE.     We  have  no  time  to  waste. 

Danton.  At  what  hour  have  you  decided  to  have 
our  heads?     Can't  you  wait,  hangman? 


DANTON  2H 

Philippeaux.  You  will  wait  for  Desmoulins.  You 
have  no  right  to  murder  people  without  hearing  them. 

Fabee  d'Eglantine.  You  know  he  is  sensitive  and 
very  impressionable.  You  are  trying  to  take  advan- 
tage of  his  weakness.  You  won't  do  a  thing  to  him 
while  we  still  live. 

Herault  [ironically].  Like  the  duel  of  the  Em- 
peror Commodius  who,  armed  with  a  cavalry  sword, 
forced  his  enemy  to  fight  him  with  a  fencing-foil  tipped 
with  cork. 

Judge.     Silence ! 

The  Four  Prisoners.  Silence  yourself,  hangman! 
— People,  protect  our  rights,  the  sacred  rights  of  the 
prisoner.     [The  People  shout:  '*  Bravo!    Bravo!"] 

Danton  [rubbing  Desmoulins'  hands].  Courage, 
my  boy ! 

Camille  [still  nervous,  but  pulling  himself  together, 
he  grasps  Danton's  hand,  smiles  at  him,  and  rises]. 
Thank  you,  friends,  I  feel  much  better  now.  You  have 
given  me  strength. — That,  monsters,  is  what  you  will 
never  have:  the  affection  of  the  people.  You  accuse 
me  of  having  spoken  my  mind.?  I  am  proud  of  it. 
Faithful  to  the  Republic,  which  I  founded,  I  will  re- 
main free,  no  matter  what  it  costs  me.  You  say  I 
have  insulted  liberty?  I  have  said  that  liberty  meant 
happiness,  reason,  equality,  and  justice.  I  have  com- 
mitted these  outrages,  yes !  You  see,  oh  people,  how  I 
am  rewarded!     [The  People  acclaim  him  with  Bravos.] 

Judge.     You  must  not  address  the  people. 

Camille.  Whom  should  I  address?  The  aristo- 
crats?    I  begged  the  Committee  to  be  merciful,  for  I 


212  D  ANTON 

wanted  the  people  to  enjoy  the  liberty  which  they  have 
acquired,  but  which  seems  intended  now  merely  to  sat- 
isfy the  grudges  of  a  handful  of  scoundrels!  I  asked 
men  to  put  an  end  to  their  quarreling,  and  that  they 
be  bound  together  by  love  into  a  great  family.  It 
appears  that  these  desires  are  criminal.  But  what  I 
call  a  crime  is  this  mad  political  game  which  soils  the 
nation  and  the  people,  forcing  it  to  plunge  their  hands 
into  innocent  blood  before  the  whole  universe ! 

Judge.  It  is  not  your  place  to  accuse;  you  are 
here  to  answer  your  accusers. 

Camille.  Very  well,  I  accuse  myself,  if  you  like, 
of  not  having  always  thought  as  I  think  today.  For 
too  long  did  I  believe  in  hatred;  the  heat  of  battle  led 
me  on,  and  I  have  committed  too  many  crimes ;  I  stirred 
up  vengeance,  and  more  than  once  the  sword  was  drawn 
as  a  result  of  my  writings.  Innpcent  people  were 
dragged  here  on  my  advice.  This  is  my  crime,  my  real 
crime,  and  you  are  my  partners  in  it.  This  is  the 
crime  I  am  today  expiating. 

Judge.     Whom  are  you  referring  to? 

FouQUiEE-TiNviLLE.     Whosc  death  do  you  regret? 

Philippeaux.     Don't  answer,  Desmoulins! 

Fabre  d'Eglantine.     It's  a  trap.     Take  care! 

Danton.     Swallow  your  tongue,  my  boy! 

CAMiLiiE.  I  refer  to  the  Girondins.  [The  People 
murmuTy  and  David  says:  "  He  confesses!  "] 

Judge.  The  prisoner  confesses  his  implication  in 
the  Brissotist  conspiracies. 

Camille  [with  a  shrug^.  It  was  my  Brissot  dS- 
voUS  which  condemned  the  Brissotists. 


DANTON  aiS 

FouauuEE-TiNviLLE.     But  now  you  regret  it? 

Camille  [not  answering].  Oh,  my  colleagues!  I 
say  to  you  as  Brutus  said  to  Cicero :  "  We  fear  death 
too  much,  and  exile,  and  poverty.  Nvmium  timemus 
mortem  et  exilium  et  pauper tatem.*'  Is  life  so  dear 
that  we  should  prolong  it  without  honor?  There  is 
not  one  of  us  who  has  not  reached  the  very  summit  of 
the  mountain  of  life.  We  have  before  us  the  descent, 
which  is  full  of  precipices,  unavoidable  even  by  the  most 
obscure.  The  descent  has  no  pleasant  landscapes  to 
offer,  no  resting  places  which  were  not  a  thousand  times 
more  delectable  to  that  same  Solomon  who  declared,  in 
all  his  glory  and  in  the  midst  of  his  seven  hundred  wives : 
"  I  find  that  the  dead  are  happier  than  the  living,  and 
that  the  happiest  of  men  is  he  who  was  never  born." 
\_He  sits  down-l 

Danton.  Fool!  That  speech  of  yours  will  cost 
us  our  heads!  [He  kisses  Desmoulins.  Some  one 
comes  to  tell  Danton  that  it  is  his  turn.  He  rises 
and  faces  the  Court.] 

Judge  [to  Danton],  Prisoner,  your  name,  age,  oc- 
cupation, and  place  of  residence? 

Danton  [in  a  voice  of  thunder] .  My  place  of  resi- 
dence? Soon  the  great  void.  My  name?  In  the 
Pantheon.  [The  People  are  tense.  They  talk  and 
appear  to  approve  him;  then  suddenly  they  become 
silent,  as  the  Judge  speaks.] 

Judge.  You  know  the  law.  Answer  categori- 
cally. 

Danton.  My  name  is  Georges-Jacques  Danton.  I 
am  thirty-three  years  old,  and  a  native  of  Arcis-sur- 


214.  DANTON 

Aube.  I  am  a  solicitor.  I  live  in  Paris  -  at  present, 
in  the  Rue  des  Cordeliers. 

Judge.  Danton,  the  National  Convention  accuses 
you  of  having  conspired  with  Mirabeau  and  Dumouriez, 
of  having  known  their  plans  for  putting  an  end  to  our 
liberty,  and  of  having  secretly  aided  and  abetted  them. 
[Danton  roars  with  laughter.  The  Court,  the  People, 
and  even  the  prisoners  stare  at  him,  and  then  all  begin 
to  laugh.  The  whole  room  vibrates  with  Homeric 
laughter.  Danton  strikes  the  railing  in  front  of  him 
with  his  fist.] 

Danton  [still  laughing].  Liberty  conspiring 
against  Liberty !  Danton  conspiring  against  Danton ! 
— Scoundrels !  Look  me  in  the  eye !  Liberty  resides 
here!  [He  puts  his  hands  to  his  head.]  It  is  in  this 
petrified  mask  of  mine,  it  is  in  these  eyes  which  flame 
with  volcanic  fire;  in  this  voice,  the  roar  of  which 
rocks  the  palaces  of  tyrants  to  their  foundations. 
Take  my  head,  nail  it  to  the  shield  of  the  Republic, 
and  it  will,  like  Medusa,  make  the  enemies  of  Liberty 
fall  dead  from  fright. 

Judge.  I  am  not  asking  for  your  panegyric,  but 
for  your  defense. 

Danton.  A  man  like  me  does  not  have  to  defend 
himself:  my  actions  speak  for  me.  I  have  nothing  to 
defend,  nothing  to  explain.  I  don't  enshroud  myself 
with  all  sorts  of  mysterious  things  if  I  want  to  make 
love  to  an  old  woman — as  Robespierre  does.  My  door 
is  wide  open,  I  have  no  curtains  to  my  bed;  all  of 
France  knows  when  I  drink  and  when  I  make  love. 
I  am  a  man  of  the  people;  my  virtues  and  vices  arc 


DANTON  215 

of  the  people;  I  conceal  nothing  from  them.  I  show 
myself  to  the  world,  and  I  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of. 

Judge.  Danton,  your  language  is  an  Insult  to  jus- 
tice. The  low  expressions  you  use  indicate  the  base- 
ness of  your  soul.  Moderation  is  the  badge  of  inno- 
cence, and  audacity  that  of  crime. 

Danton.  If  audacity  is  a  crime,  I  speak  for  crime. 
I  kiss  it,  and  leave  virtue  to  you,  Judge:  the  lean  kine 
of  Pharaoh  have  no  attraction  for  me.  I  love 
audacity,  and  I  am  proud  of  it :  the  audacity  of  a  good 
hug.  I  love  the  huge  breasts  where  heroes  suck.  The 
Revolution  is  the  daughter  of  audacity.  Audacity  is 
what  laid  low  the  Bastille ;  through  me,  audacity  urged 
the  people  of  Paris  against  royalty;  audacity  it  was 
that  urged  me  to  pick  the  severed  head  of  Louis  by 
its  fat  ears,  and  cast  it  in  the  teeth  of  tyrants  and 
their  God!  [The  People^  in  great  excitement,  show 
their  approval  of  Danton.] 

Judge.  All  this  violence  proves  nothing.  I  have 
made  specific  accusations  against  you,  and  I  ask  you 
to  make  specific  replies,  adhering  to  the  facts. 

Danton.  Do  you  expect  a  revolutionary  like  me  to 
make  a  dignified  answer?  My  soul  is  like  bronze  in 
a  forge.  The  statue  of  Liberty  is  being  molded  in  my 
breast.  Do  you  want  to  put  me  into  a  squirrel's 
cage.?  Do  you  insist  on  putting  me  through  a  cross- 
examination?  Catechize  me?  Why,  I  would  tear  the 
net  you  want  to  put  around  me  to  tatters;  my  belly 
would  burst  the  shirt !  I  am  accused,  you  say !  Where 
are  my  accusers?     Let  them  show  themselves,  and  I 


216  DANTON 

will  cover  them  with  the  opprobrium   they  so  richly 
deserve ! 

Judge.  Again,  Danton,  you  are  lacking  in  respect 
toward  the  representatives  of  the  nation,  toward  the 
court  and  the  sovereign  people  who  have  a  right  to 
demand  an  account  of  your  actions.  Marat  was  ac- 
cused as  you  are  accused.  He  did  not  become  violent. 
He  did  not  answer  facts  with  athletic  exhibitions  and 
florid  rhetoric.  He  tried  to  justify  himself,  and  he 
succeeded.     I  can  offer  you  no  more  brilliant  example. 

Danton.  I  shall  then  condescend  to  justify  myself, 
and  follow  Saint-Just's  plan.  When  I  look  through 
this  list  of  horrors,  ray  whole  self  shudders.  I,  sold 
to  Mirabeau,  Orleans,  Dumouriez!  I  always  fought 
them!  I  frustrated  Mirabeau's  plans  when  I  consid- 
ered them  dangerous  to  the  cause  of  Liberty.  I  de- 
fended Marat  against  him.  The  only  time  I  saw 
Dumouriez  was  to  ask  him  for  an  accounting  of  the 
millions  that  he  had  squandered.  I  suspected  his  plans, 
and  in  order  to  spoil  them,  I  flattered  him.  Ought  I 
to  have  ruined  him,  when  the  safety  of  the  Republic 
lay  in  his  hands?  Yes,  I  did  send  Fabre  to  him;  yes, 
I  did  promise  to  make  him  commander-in-chief;  but 
at  the  same  time  I  told  Billaud-Varenne  to  keep  a 
strict  watch  over  him.  Am  I  to  be  blamed  because  I 
lied  to  a  traitor?  I  have  committed  many  another 
crime  for  the  nation.  You  can't  save  a  nation  with 
petty  virtues.  I  would  have  shouldered  any  crime  at 
all,  if  need  were,  to  save  you — all  of  you,  judges, 
people,  even  you  vile  impostors  who  are  now  accusing 
me!     I  conspire  with  royalty?     Ah,  yes,  indeed,  I  re- 


DANTON  «17 

member  how  I  aided  In  establishing  the  royal  power  on 
the  tenth  of  August,  the  triumph  of  the  federalists  on 
the  thirty-first  of  May,  and  the  victory  of  the  Prus- 
sians at  Valmy !  Bring  forth  my  accusers !  I  have 
something  to  say  to  the  blackguards  who  are  ruining 
the  Republic!  I  have  a  few  important  revelations  to 
make.     I  demand  a  hearing. 

Judge.  These  indecent  outbursts  can  only  harm 
your  cause.  Those  who  accuse  you  enjoy  the  confi- 
dence of  the  public.  Clear  yourself  first:  a  man  who 
is  accused  deserves  no  confidence  until  he  has  washed 
himself  clean  of  his  accusations.  It  is  not  only  your 
Republicanism  which  is  now  in  question ;  you  have  been 
cited  for  evil  living,  debauchery,  prodigality,  and  em- 
bezzlement. 

Danton.  Not  so  fast!  Stop  the  spigot  of  your 
flowing  eloquence.  Let  us  have  a  few  drops  at  a  time, 
so  that  we  may  lose  nothing.  So  I  am  accused  of 
loving  life,  enjoying  it.f*  Of  course,  I  love  life.  Not 
all  the  pedants  of  Arras  and  Geneva  can  put  a  stop  to 
the  joy  that  ferments  in  the  district  of  Champagne.  It 
swells  on  the  vines  and  increases  the  desires  of  men. 
Shall  I  blush  because  of  my  superabundant  vitality? 
Nature  gave  me  great  capacity  and  correspondingly 
great  needs.  I  was  fortunate  enough  not  to  have 
sprung  from  an  enfeebled  and  puny  and  privileged 
race;  and  I  have  throughout  my  tempestuous  career, 
preserved  my  natural  vigor  intact.  What  have  you 
to  complain  of.''  My  vigor  has  been  your  salvation. 
What  do  you  care  if  I  pass  my  nights  at  the  Palais- 
Royal?     Not  a  single  caress  can  harm  the  cause  of 


218  DANTON 

Liberty.  I  have  enough  love  for  everything.  Have 
you  proscribed  all  pleasure.'*  Has  France  made  an 
oath  of  chastity.''  Have  we  all  fallen  under  the  rule 
of  a  schoolmaster  .J*  Because  an  old  fox  has  lost  his 
tail  must  we  all  lose  ours?     [The  People  laugh.] 

Judge.  You  are  accused  of  having  kept  part  of 
the  money  intrusted  to  you  by  the  State.  You  have 
used  secret  moneys  for  the  satisfaction  of  your  pleas- 
ures. You  have  levied  on  Belgium  and  brought  from 
Brussels  three  carriages  full  of  plunder. 

Danton.  I  have  already  answered  those  absurd 
accusations.  When  I  was  Minister  under  the  Revolu- 
tion, fifty  millions  were  left  to  me.  I  admit  that.  I 
oflFered  to  make  a  strict  accounting  of  them.  Cambon 
gave  me  40,000  livres  for  secret  expenses.  Half  of 
this  I  spent  openly :  I  gave  free  rein  to  Fabre  and  to 
Billaud.  I  used  these  funds  to  help  the  departments. 
As  to  that  ridiculous  tale  of  the  archduchess'  napkins, 
which  were  brought  from  Belgium,  do  you  think  me 
a  handkerchief  thief?  My  trunks  were  opened  at 
Bethune,  and  I  was  detained.  They  found  only  my 
own  clothes,  and  a  swanskin  corset.  Does  the  corset 
outrage  Robespierre's  modesty?  Is  that  why  I  am 
accused? 

Judge.  The  charge  of  embezzlement  is  proved  by 
your  prodigality  of  the  past  two  years.  Your  income 
was  not  sufficient,  and  you  must  have  taken  State 
money. 

Danton.  As  a  solicitor  in  the  council,  I  bought  a 
little  property  near  Arcis.  I  have  assured  my  mother 
a  small  income,  also  my  father-in-law,  and  the  good 


DANTON  219 

woman  who  brought  me  up.  These  sums  are  no  larger 
than  was  my  income  before  the  Revolution.  As  for 
the  life  I  led  at  Paris  or  at  Arcis,  possibly  I  have  not 
confined  my  expenditures  to  the  level  of  shameful  econ- 
omy. I  do  not  force  my  friends  when  they  sup  with 
me  to  partake  of  the  meager  soup  of  Mere  Duplay. 
I  cannot  stint  myself  or  my  friends.  Are  you  not 
ashamed  to  trifle  witb  Danton  about  how  much  he 
drinks  or  how  much  he  eats?  This  nasty  hypocrisy 
is  threatening  to  overwhelm  the  nation.  It  blushes  for 
nature,  and  hides  its  face  at  a  real  healthy  thing.  Its 
virtues  are  but  negative  virtues.  So  long  as  a  man 
has  a  weak  stomach  and  atrophied  senses,  lives  on  a 
little  cheese  and  sleeps  in  a  narrow  bed,  you  call  him 
Incorruptible,  and  imagine  that  that  is  suflicient  to 
allow  him  to  dispense  with  courage  and  intelligence. 
I  detest  these  anaemic  virtues.  Virtue  means  to  be 
great,  for  yourself  and  for  the  nation.  When  you 
have  the  honor  of  holding  a  great  man  in  your  midst, 
don't  begrudge  him  his  bread.  All  his  needs,  his  pas- 
sions, his  capacity  for  sacrifice,  are  built  on  a  different 
plan  from  that  of  ordinary  men.  Achilles  used  to  eat 
the  whole  back  of  an  ox  at  a  single  meal.  If  Danton 
requires  much  to  feed  his  furnace,  let  him  have  it 
without  a  murmur.  Here,  in  me,  is  the  vast  fire,  the 
flames  of  which  protect  you  against  prowling  beasts 
that  wait  their  chance  to  spring  at  the  throat  of  the 
Republic. 

Judge.     You  therefore  confess? 

Danton.  You  lie!  I  have  just  denied.  I  have 
lived  freely,  honestly,  carefully,  on  the  money  that  was 


SSO  DANTON 

confided  to  me,  but  I  have  not  been  miserly.  I  ren- 
dered to  Danton  the  things  that  were  Danton's. 
Bring  the  witnesses  I  asked  for,  and  we  shall  clear  up 
any  misunderstandings.  The  accusations  and  answers 
ought  not  to  remain  vague:  nothing  short  of  a  cate- 
gorical discussion  will  bring  this  trial  to  an  end. 
Where  are  the  witnesses?  Why  don't  they  come 
forth? 

Judge,     Your  voice  is  tired,  Danton;  rest. 

Danton.     Not  at  all!     I  can  continue. 

Judge.  You  may  continue  your  justification 
shortly,  and  more  calmly. 

Danton  [furiously] .  I  am  calm !  My  witnesses ! 
I  have  been  asking  for  them  for  the  past  three  days ! 
I  have  not  yet  seen  a  single  one.  I  ask  the  public 
prosecutor,  before  the  assembled  audience,  why  justice 
is  refused  me? 

FouQuiEE-TiNviLLE.  I  havc  no  objection  to  their 
being  summoned. 

Danton.  Then  bring  them.  Nothing  can  be  done 
without  your  orders. 

FouQUiEE-TiNviLLE.  I  allow  the  witnesses  to  be 
called,  except,  of  course,  those  designated  by  the  pris- 
oners as  belonging  to  the  Convention;  because  the  ac- 
cusation is  made  by  the  whole  Assembly,  and  it  would 
be  ridiculous  to  insist  that  your  own  accusers  should 
be  brought  in  to  justify  you,  especially  when  they  are 
the  representatives  of  the  people,  the  guardians  of  th« 
highest  power,  accountable  only  to  the  people. 

Heeault.  a  good  Jesuit  trick!  [He  and  Fabeb 
d'Eglantine  laugh.] 


DANTON  221 

Danton.  I  see!  My  colleagues  will  be  allowed  to 
murder  me,  and  I  shall  not  be  permitted  to  bring  con- 
fusion on  my  murderers ! 

FouQuiEE-TiNviLLE.  You  dare  insult  the  national 
representatives ! 

Philippeaux.  Are  we  here  as  a  mere  matter  of 
form?     Do  you  want  us  to  remain  mute? 

Camille.  People,  you  hear!  They  are  afraid  of 
the  truth!  They  fear  the  testimony  that  will  con- 
found them ! 

Judge.     Address  the  court,  and  not  the  people. 

Philippeaux.  The  people  are  our  sole  judges ;  you 
are  nothing  without  them. 

Camille.     I  ask  the  Convention ! 

Danton.  You  want  to  gag  us,  but  you  cannot. 
My  voice  will  stir  Paris  to  its  very  entrails.  Light! 
Light ! 

Judge.     Silence ! 

The  People.  The  witnesses!  [The  Judges  be- 
come alarmed.^ 

FouQUiEE-TiNviLLE.  It  is  time  to  cease  this 
scandalous  discussion;  I  shall  write  to  the  Convention 
of  your  request:  we  will  obey  their  command.  [The 
People  applaud.  Fouquier-Tinville  and  Herman 
consult  together,  write  the  request,  and  read  in  an 
undertone  what  they  have  written.] 

Camille  [eaniltant].     We  have  won  our  case! 

Danton.  We'll  confound  the  blackguards.  You'll 
see  them  fall  into  their  own  vileness  head-first.  If  the 
French  people  are  what  they  ought  to  be,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  ask  their  pardon. 


222  DANTON 

Philippeaux.  Pardon  from  those  who  seek  our 
death? 

Camille  [gaily].  We  shall  appoint  Saint-Just 
schoolmaster  at  Blerancourt  and  Robespierre  church- 
warden at  Saint-Omer. 

Herault  [with  a  shrug].  Incorrigible!  They  are 
on  their  way  to  the  guillotine,  and  they  still  hope ! 

Danton.  Idiots !  To  accuse  Danton  and  Des- 
mouKns  of  conspiring  against  the  Republic!  So 
Barere  is  a  patriot  now,  and  Danton  an  aristocrat. 
France  won't  be  humbugged  like  that  for  very  long! 
[To  one  of  the  Jury.]  Do  you  think  we  are  con- 
spirators? See,  he  smiles.  He  doesn't  believe  it. — 
Write  that  he  laughed ! 

FouQUiER-TiNviLLE  [in  the  midst  of  his  work].  I 
beg  you  to  cease  your  personal  conversations.  It  is 
against  the  law. 

Danton.  Do  you  dare  tell  your  father  how  to  make 
children?  I  was  the  one  who  organized  this  court;  I 
ought  to  know  how  to  behave  in  it. 

Camille.  I  am  beginning  to  take  pleasure  in  life 
again.  A  moment  ago,  everything  was  dark ;  I  felt  as 
if  I  were  already  in  the  grave. 

Danton.  It  isn't  that  everything  is  light :  you  your- 
self have  changed.  You  didn't  loom  very  large  on  the 
horizon. 

Camille.  I  am  ashamed  of  my  weakness.  My 
flesh  is  feeble. 

Danton.  You're  a  sly  one !  You  wanted  to  become 
an  object  of  sympathy  to  the  women!  See  that  girl 
there  making  eyes  at  you ! 


DANTON  223 

Heeault  [softly].  My  poor  friends,  I  really  pity 
you. 

Danton.     Why,  my  handsome  fellow? 

Hebault.  You're  selling  the  bear-skin,  when  your 
own  is  already  disposed  of. 

Danton.  My  skin.?  Yes,  I  know,  there  are  many 
who  would  like  it.  Saint-Just  especially.  Well,  let 
him  come  and  take  it,  and  if  he  succeeds,  let  him  make 
a  rug  of  it. 

Heuault.  Why  bother  .f*  [He  shrugs  his  shoulders 
and  lapses  into  silence.  Meanwhile,  Fouquier-Tin- 
viLLE  has  finished  his  letter,  which  is  taken  out  by  a 
guard.] 

Judge.  While  we  await  the  Convention's  answer, 
let  us  continue.  [The  gendarmes  maJce  the  prisoners 
sit  down  again.  He  says  to  Philippeaux.]  Your 
name  and  occupation.'* 

Philippeaux.  Pierre-Nicolas  Philippeaux,  former 
judge  at  Le  Mans,  representative  in  the  Convention. 

Judge.     Your  age? 

Philippeaux.     Thirty-five. 

Judge.  You  are  charged  with  having  paralyzed  the 
national  defense,  during  your  mission  in  La  Vendee; 
you  attempted  to  throw  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety 
into  disrepute,  by  means  of  insulting  pamphlets;  you 
were  a  conspirator  with  Danton  and  Fabre  in  their 
attempt  to  restore  the  royalty. 

Philippeaux.  I  exposed  the  indignation  of  the  pub- 
lic against  the  brigandage  of  certain  generals.  It  was 
my  duty,  and  I  accomplished  it. 

Judge.     In  this  implacable  struggle  for  France,  your 


224  DANTON 

duty  was  to  do  everything  in  your  power  to  aid  the 
nation.     You  tried  to  hinder  it. 

Philippeaux.  Ronsin  and  Rossignol  are  a  dishonor 
to  humanity. 

FouQuiEE-TiNviLLE.  You  Were  not  a  representa- 
tive of  humanity,  but  of  the  nation. 

Philippeaux.     My  nation  is  humanity. 

Judge.  Did  those  you  pitied,  the  Royalists  who 
were  crushed  by  Rossignol,  think  of  humanity? 

Philippeaux.     There  is  no  excuse  for  crime. 

FouftuiER-TiNviLLE.     Victory  is. 

Philippeaux.     I  accuse  you. 

Camille.  Before  all  the  people,  I  denounce  these 
infamies ! 

FouQUiEE-TiNviLLE  [with  tt  shrug] .  Let  the  people 
judge.  [The  People  are  divided:  many  applaud 
FouQUiEE-TiNViLLE  and  converse  among  themselves, "l 

Danton  [aside  to  Desmoulins].  Keep  your  mouth 
shut !     You're  throwing  stones  in  my  garden. 

Camille  [astounded^.     How  is  XhaX? 

Danton.     I  said  what  was  necessary. 

Judge  [to  Westeemann].     Prisoner,  stand  up. 

Westeemann.     I?     Well,  forward  march! 

Judge.     Your  name.? 

Westeeann.     You  know  my  name  very  welL 

Judge.     Your  name? 

Westeemann  [with  a  shrug'\.  Always  mixing 
things  up!     Ask  the  people! 

Judge.  You  are  Fran9ois-Joseph  Westermann,  na- 
tive of  Alsace,  brigadier-general.  You  are  forty-three 
years  old.     You  were  to  have  been  the  sword  of  this 


DANTON  «25 

conspiracy.  Danton  recalled  you  to  Paris  to  command 
the  soldiers  in  the  counter-revolution.  You  committed 
atrocities  in  your  army.  You  were  the  cause  of  the 
defeat  at  Chatillon.  Together  with  Philippeaux,  you 
attempted  to  kill  the  patriots  whom  it  was  your  duty 
to  defend.  Your  record  is  very  bad.  You  have  been 
three  times  accused  of  theft. 

Westekmann.     You  swine,  you  lie ! 

Judge.  I  shall  have  you  sent  back  to  your  cell  for 
insulting  the  law,  and  try  you  without  hearing  your 
defense. 

Westebmann.  I  was  a  soldier  at  the  age  of  fifteen. 
On  the  tenth  of  August  I  commanded  the  people  when 
we  took  the  Tuileries.  I  fought  at  Jemmapes. 
Dumouriez  deserted  me  in  Holland,  surrounded  by  the 
enemy,  and  I  brought  my  legion  to  Antwerp.  Then  I 
was  in  La  Vendee ;  I  made  trouble  for  the  brigands  of 
Charette  and  Cathelineau.  Savenay,  Ancenis,  and  Le 
Mans  are  strewn  with  their  carcasses.  So  the  damned 
pigs  accuse  me  of  being  cruel?  I  was  more  than  that: 
I  was  ferocious  toward  cowards.  Do  you  ask  for 
proofs  against  me?  Here  they  are:  I  charged  my 
cavalry  through  our  retreating  soldiers  at  Pontorson. 
I  slashed  the  face  of  a  cowardly  officer  at  Chatillon. 
I  would  have  burned  my  whole  army,  if  necessary,  in 
order  to  be  victorious.  I  pillaged,  you  say?  What 
has  that  to  do  with  you?  You  are  out  of  your  minds. 
I  did  my  duty  as  a  soldier :  Fm  not  a  shopkeeper.  My 
duty  was  to  defend  the  Patrie  by  every  means ;  I  have 
accomplished  it  for  the  past  thirty  years,  sparing 
neither  my  own  sweat  nor  my  blood.     I  received  seven 


226  DANTON 

wounds — not  one  in  the  back — or  rather  the  onlj  one 
is  my  accusation. 

Judge.  You  have  often  in  the  presence  of  witnesses, 
spoken  insultingly  of  the  Convention.  You  have  even 
threatened  to  pull  down  the  palace  on  the  heads  of  the 
representatives. 

Westeemann.  Quite  true.  I  hate  that  suspicious 
pack  of  spouters  who  stop  all  action  by  their  jealous 
stupidity.  I  said  that  the  Convention  needed  to  be 
cleaned  out  and  I  offered  to  carry  off  the  manure. 

FouQUiER-TiNViLLE.  Do  you  confess  to  having  con- 
spired ? 

Westeemann.  What  conspiracy  are  you  talking 
about?  I  did  my  own  thinking,  and  my  own  doing. 
I  am  a  friend  of  none  of  these  others.  I've  spoken 
occasionally  to  Danton,  and  I  admire  his  energy;  but 
he's  a  lawyer,  too,  and  I  never  trust  lawyers.  France 
can't  be  saved  by  talk,  but  only  by  sabers. 

Judge.     That  is  enough.     Your  case  is  clear, 

Westeemann.  Send  me  to  the  guillotine !  That  at 
least  is  something  active — ^like  a  saber  stroke.  I  only 
ask  one  thing:  put  me  on  my  back:  I  want  to  face  the 
knife.  [Vadiee  and  Billaud-Vaeenne  enter.  Fou- 
QUiEE-TiNviLLE  Hses  and  shakes  hands  with  them. 
The  People  are  excited.] 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [in  an  undertone].  Scoundrels! 
We  have  them  now! 

Vadiee  [aside  to  Fouquiee-Tinville].  This  will 
end  matters. 

FouQUiEE-TiNviLLE.  It  was  high  time.  [Deep  agi- 
tation among  the  People,  who  become  silent.    Fouquiee- 


DANTON  227 

TiNviLLE  reads,  standing,  with  the  other  two  at  his 
side.]  "  The  National  Convention,  after  having  heard 
the  report  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  and 
Public  Security,  decrees  that  the  Revolutionary  Tri- 
bunal shall  continue  the  examination  into  the  con- 
spiracy of  Danton  and  his  associates;  that  the  Judge 
shall  use  every  means  accorded  him  by  law  to  impose 
respect  and  to  put  a  stop  to  every  effort  on  the  part 
of  the  prisoners  to  disturb  the  public  dignity  and  inter- 
fere with  the  course  of  justice,  and  that  every  pris- 
oner accused  of  conspiracy  who  shall  resist  or  insult 
the  national  justice  shall  be  immediately  withdrawn 
from  the  trial."  [The  People  and  the  others  are  aston- 
ished. All  at  once  the  People  begin  talking,  then  the 
prisoners,  at  first  ill  at  ease,  burst  out.^ 

Camille.     Infamous !     They  are  gagging  us ! 

Philippeaux.     They  are  not  judges,  but  butchers. 

Danton  [to  Fouquier-Tinville] .  You  have  not 
read  it  all.  There  is  something  else.  The  answer! 
The  answer  to  our  demand ! 

Judge.     Silence ! 

FouQuiER-TiNviLLE.  The  Convention  communicates 
the  following  letter,  received  by  the  Committees  from 
the  police  department,  which  shall  be  read  in  order 
that  the  court  may  understand  the  perils  besetting  the 
cause  of  Liberty.  [Reads ;]  "  Commune  of  Paris. 
We,  the  administrators  of  the  police  department,  hav- 
ing received  a  letter  from  the  concierge  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg prison,  immediately  went  to  the  said  prison,  and 
brought  before  us  Citizen  Laflotte,  former  minister  to 
the  Republic  of  Florence,  who  has  been  confined  there 


228  DANTON 

for  the  past  six  days.  He  declared  to  us  that  last 
night,  between  the  hours  of  six  and  seven,  as  he  was 
in  the  room  of  Arthur  Dillon,  having  taken  the  afore- 
said Dillon  to  one  side,  told  him  that  it  was  necessary 
to  resist  oppression,  that  the  good  men  detained  in  the 
Luxembourg  and  other  prisons  ought  to  join  forces; 
that  Desraoulins'  wife  had  placed  a  thousand  ecus  at 
his  disposal,  in  order  to  arouse  the  people  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal — " 

Camille  [furiously].  The  scoundrels!  They  are 
not  satisiSed  with  murdering  me!  They  are  trying  to 
murder  my  wife ! 

Danton  [shaJeing  his  fist  at  FouauiER-TiNviLLE] . 
Scoundrels,  scoundrels!  They've  invented  this  to  ruin 
us  !     [The  People  are  in  a  fury  of  indignation,] 

FouQuiER-TiNviLLE  [continuing,  as  he  makes  efforts 
to  arouse  the  interest  of  the  audience] — "  Laflotte  pre- 
tended to  enter  into  their  plans  in  order  to  become 
better  acquainted  with  them.  Dillon,  believing  that  he 
had  made  a  convert  to  his  infamous  plot,  told  him  of 
various  plans.  Laflotte  declares  his  willingness  to  re- 
veal these  details  to  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety — " 
[The  People  drown  out  his  voice.] 

Ca^jIjJjI:  [raving  like  a  madman].  Monsters!  [He 
crumples  the  papers  in  his  hand  and  throws  them  at 
Fouquier-Tinville's  head.  He  says  to  the  People:] 
Help!     Help! 

Danton  [roaring].  Cowards!  Cut-throats!  Why 
not  bind  us  to  these  benches,  and  cut  our  throats ! 

Philippeaux.     Tyranny ! 

Danton.     People,  they  are  killing  us — and  you  with 


DANTON  229 

us!  They  are  murdering  Danton!  Paris,  arise! 
Arise !  [Two  voices,  at  first,  then  all  the  People  shout: 
"  Tyranny!  "] 

Westermann.  To  arras!  [The  People  repeat: 
**  To  arms!"     A  wUd  uproar  indoors  and  out.'\ 

FouftuiEE-TiNviLLE  [pale  and  frightened,  to  Bil- 
laud-Vaeenne  and  Vadier].  What  shall  we  do? 
The  people  may  attack. 

BiLiiAUD-VARENNE.     Hanriot,  clear  the  room. 

Vadier.  That  would  only  incite  them  to  battle,  and 
who  knows  which  would  be  the  stronger? 

Fouquier-Tinville  [who  has  just  looked  out  the 
window^.  They  are  standing  in  crowds  along  the 
quay.     They  could  force  the  doors. 

Danton.  People,  we  can  do  anything  we  will.  We 
have  triumphed  over  kings  and  over  the  armies  of  Eu- 
rope.    To  arms !     Down  with  the  tyrants ! 

Vadier  [to  Fouquier-Tinville].  First  of  all,  send 
these  fellows  back  to  prison,  and  get  that  spouter  out 
of  the  way. 

Danton  [shaking  his  fist  at  Vadier].  Look  at  the 
cowardly  cut-throats.  Vadier,  Vadier!  Dog,  come 
here!  If  this  is  to  be  a  combat  between  cannibals, 
allow  me  at  least  to  fight  for  my  life ! 

Vadier  [^o  Fouquier-Tinville].  Prosecutor,  carry 
out  the  decree. 

Fouquier-Tinville.  The  unheard-of  indecency 
which  the  prisoners  choose  to  employ  as  weapons  of 
defense,  the  threats  which  they  are  so  impudent  as  to 
hurl  at  the  Tribunal,  must  put  an  end  to  the  session. 
They  force  us  to  deal  in  like  fashion  under  the  grave 


230  DANTON 

circumstances.  I  am  therefore  forced  to  ask  that  th« 
questions  be  asked  and  judgment  passed  in  the  absence 
of  the  prisoners. 

Judge.  The  court  will  deliberate.  Take  out  the 
prisoners.  [Danton  does  not  seem  to  have  understood. 
He  chokes t  roaring  like  an  animal.^ 

Vadiee  [in  an  undertone].  Cry,  old  fellow,  your 
time  has  come ! 

Heeault  [rising  and  dusting  his  coat].  This  is  the 
end. 

Danton  [allowing  himself  to  he  led  to  his  bench  by 
the  gendarmes,  and  there  falling  in  a  heap.  He  sud- 
denly pulls  himself  together].  Peace,  Danton,  peace. 
Our  destinies  are  being  accomplished. 

Camille  [supplicating].  I  am  a  friend  of  Robes- 
pierre.    You  can't  condemn  me. 

Westeemann  [to  Danton].  Keep  that  idiot  from 
dishonoring  himself. 

Danton  [in  consternation].  They  are  mad.  Mis- 
erable country,  what  will  become  of  you  without  this 
leader  ? 

Heeault  [to  Desmoulins] .  Come,  my  friends,  let 
us  show  them  we  know  how  to  die. 

Danton.  We  have  lived  long  enough  to  lay  our 
heads  on  the  breast  of  glory.  Let  them  take  us  to  the 
scaffold ! 

Camille.  Oh,  my  wife!  My  son!  Shall  I  never 
see  you  again?     No,  I  cannot.     My  friends,  help  me! 

Judge.     Take  out  the  prisoners. 

Danton.  Don't,  don't;  this  miserable  life  is  not 
worth  struggling  for. 


DANTON  231 

Hebault  [as  if  in  a  hurry  to  have  done  with  every- 
thing, goes  to  Fabee  d'Eglantine,  without  waiting  for 
the  gendarmes,  who  take  charge  of  the  other  prisoners]. 
Give  me  your  arm,  my  friend ;  here  at  last  is  an  end  to 
your  troubles. 

Fabee  d'Eglantine.  We  shall  at  least  have  en- 
joyed a  splendid  performance. 

Danton.  Well,  Fabre,  here  is  a  play  that  is  more 
impressive  than  any  you  ever  wrote — no  offense,  I  hope  ? 

Fabee  d'Eglantine.  You  have  not  read  my  latest ; 
there  are  some  good  things  in  it.  I  tremble  for  fear 
Collot  d'Herbois  may  destroy  the  manuscript.  He  is 
jealous  of  me. 

Danton.  Console  yourself,  we  shall  all  do  there 
what  you  did  here  on  earth. 

Fabee  d'Eglantine.     What.'* 

Danton.     Write  poetry. 

Heeault.  The  Convention  will  be  empty  tomorrow. 
I  yawn  when  I  think  that  our  survivors  will  be  con- 
demned, on  pain  of  death,  not  to  sleep  through  the 
speeches  of  Robespierre  and  Saint-Just,  of  Saint-Just 
and  of  Robespierre. 

Danton.  They  will  not  listen  very  long.  I  have 
dug  the  grave,  and  Robespierre  will  follow  me. 

Fabee  d'Eglantine.  I  should  like  to  have  followed 
the  development  of  the  character  of  some  of  these  little 
rascals:  Barras,  Talien,  and  Fouche.  But  I  must  not 
ask  too  much.     Come,  H^rault.      \_They  go  out.] 

Camille  [clinging  to  his  bench,  from  which  the 
gendarmes  pull  him].  I  won't  go!  You  will  kill  me 
in  prison.     Oh,  People,  listen  to  me :  it  was  I  who  made 


232  DANTON 

the  Republic.  Defend  me!  I  defended  you!  You 
won't  take  me  from  here,  you  monsters!  Cowards, 
murderers !  Oh,  Lucile !  Horace !  My  dear  ones ! 
[They  take  him  out.] 

Danton  [deeply  stirred],  I,  too,  have  a  wife  and 
children.  [Recovering  his  self-command.]  Come, 
Danton,  no  weakness. 

Westermann  [to  Danton].  Why  don't  you  take 
advantage  of  the  people's  feelings.''  They  are  on  the 
point  of  fighting. 

Danton.  The  pigs !  Nonsense !  Pigs !  They  en- 
joy our  little  performance;  they  are  there  to  applaud 
the  victors.  I've  taught  them  only  too  well  to  act  for 
themselves. 

Westermann.     Stir  them  up  now! 

Danton.  Too  late.  And  what  the  devil  do  I  care.? 
The  Republic  will  fall,  and  I  want  to  go  before  I  see 
the  end. 

Westermann.  See  what  happened  because  you  hesi- 
tated!    Why  didn't  you  forestall  Robespierre? 

Danton.  The  Revolution  cannot  exist  with  both  of 
us.  I  could  never  have  defended  myself  without  killing 
him.  I  prefer  the  Revolution  to  myself.  [Wester- 
mann goes  out.] 

Phimppeaux.  Come,  Danton,  it  is  some  consolation 
to  die  as  one  has  lived. 

Danton.  I  committed  every  crime  for  the  sake  of 
Liberty.  I  shouldered  every  task  that  the  hypocrites 
shunned.  I  have  sacrificed  everything  for  the  Revolu- 
tion. I  now  see  it  was  all  in  vain.  The  minx  has 
played  me  false;  and  now  she  sacrifices  me,  as  she  will 


DANTON  283 

sacrifice  Robespierre  tomorrow.  She  will  take  up  with 
the  first  adventurer  who  presents  himself.  Well,  what 
of  it?  I  regret  nothing;  I  love  her,  and  I  am  glad  I 
dishonored  myself  for  her  sake.  I  pity  the  poor 
beggars  who  never  embraced  her.  When  once  you  have 
been  intimate  with  the  divine  strumpet,  you  are  ready 
to  die,  for  you  have  lived.     [He  goes  out  with  Philip- 

PEAUX.] 

FouauiER-TiNvii.LE.  I  ask  the  jury  whether  they 
have  suflBlcient  instructions? 

Judge.  The  jury  will  retire  to  deliberate.  [The 
Jury  goes  out.  The  People  shift  restlessly  about,  uti" 
decided  what  to  think  or  do.  Outside  Danton  is 
heard,  and  the  shouting  of  the  crowds.  They  rush  to 
the  windows.  Some  of  the  court  also  look  out.  Those 
who  are  in  the  hall,  repeat  what  is  said  outside,  at  first 
in  undertones,  then  loudly.^ 

FouQuiEE-TiNviLLE.  The  riot  is  beginning.  We'll 
be  torn  to  pieces. 

Vadiek.  Don't  allow  the  shouting  to  influence  the 
jury.  Go  and  tell  them.  [They  go  out.  The  People 
shout  angrily  at  Vadiee  and  Fouqijier-Tinville,  who 
enter  the  jury-room.] 

Judge  [terror-stricken].  Citizens,  the  dignity  of 
the  Tribunal —  Respect  for  justice —  [The  shout- 
ing drowns  out  his  last  words.]  They  are  coming! 
We  shall  all  be  massacred!  [He  shrinks  toward  the 
door,  where  he  takes  hold  of  the  knob.  The  People,  in 
fury,  tear  up  benches  and  throw  them  toward  the 
judges*  benches,  shouting  threats  of  death.  Enter 
Saint-Just.     The  People  are  somewhat  intimidated. 


234  DANTON 

and  are  silent.  Saint-Just  looks  at  them,  coldli/,  and 
they  fall  back.  There  is  dead  silence  for  a  few  secondsy 
then  murmurs  are  heard  here  and  there.  Vadier  enters 
a  moment  after,  and  takes  advantage  of  the  calm  to 
speak.] 

Vadiee.  Citizens,  the  Committee  on  Provisions  and 
Necessities  [the  People  are  silent]  takes  this  occasion 
to  announce  to  the  public  the  arrival  of  a  large  amount 
of  grain  and  wood  at  the  port  of  Bercy.  [A  great 
clamor  arises.  People  jostle  one  another  in  a  wild 
attempt  to  leave  the  hall.  After  a  few  moments,  only 
a  small  knot  of  curious  onlookers  remain.  Vadier  casts 
a  glance  of  irony  at  the  People.]  Their  hearts  are 
good,  but  their  stomachs  better.  [The  Jury  re- 
enters. The  monotony  of  the  Judge^s  questions  is 
drowned  hy  the  last  stragglers.  The  noise  outside 
gradually  subsides,  and  Herman's  voice  becomes  more 
distinct.     Sentence  is  passed  in  a  death-like  silence.] 

Judge.  Jurymen  citizens,  there  was  a  conspiracy 
which  was  to  have  brought  dishonor  upon  the  national 
representatives,  re-established  the  monarchy,  and 
through  corruption  destroy  the  Republican  government. 
Is  Georges-Jacques  Danton,  solicitor,  Deputy  to  the 
National  Convention,  guilty  of  conspiracy  against  the 
Republic? 

The  Head  of  the  Jury.     He  is. 

Judge.  Is  Lucie-Simplice-Camille  Desmoulins,  so- 
licitor. Deputy  to  the  Convention,  guilty  of  conspiring 
against  the  Republic? 

The  Head  of  the  Jury.     He  is. 

Judge.     Is  Philippe-Fran9ois-Nazaire  Fabre,  known 


DANTON  2S5 

as  Fabre  d'Eglantine,  Deputy  to  the  Convention, 
guilty  of  conspiring  against  the  Republic? 

The  Head  of  the  Jury.     He  is. 

Judge.  Is  Pierre-Nicolas  Philippeaux,  former 
judge,  and  Deputy  to  the  Convention,  guilty  of  con- 
spiring against  the  Republic.'* 

The  Head  of  the  Juey.     He  is. 

Judge.  Is  Marie-Jean  Herault-Sechelles,  attorney 
general,  and  Deputy  to  the  Convention,  guilty  of  con- 
spiring against  the  Republic? 

The  Head  of  the  Jury.     He  is. 

Judge.  Is  Fran9ois-Joseph  Westermann,  brigadier- 
general,  guilty  of  conspiring  against  the  Republic? 

The  Head  of  the  Jury.     He  is. 

FouQUiER-TiNviLLE.  I  demand  the  application  of 
the  law. 

Judge.  Then  the  Tribunal  condemns  Georges- 
Jacques  Danton,  Lucie-Simplice-Camille  Desmoulins,^ 
Marie-Jean  Herault-Sechelles,  Philippe-Fran9ois-Na-. 
Zaire  Fabre,  known  as  Fabre  d'Eglantine,  Pierre- 
Nicolas  Philippeaux,  and  Fran9ois-Joseph  Wester-, 
mann,  to  the  death  penalty.  The  Tribunal  commands 
that  this  sentence  be  communicated  to  them  between' 
the  two  wickets  of  the  Conciergerie  by  the  clerk  of  the 
Tribunal,  and  that  they  be  executed  today,  the  six- 
teenth of  Germinal,  in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 
[The  People  file  out.  Outside,  the  clamor  becomes 
more  and  more  indistinct. — Saint-Just,  Vadier,  and 
Billaud-Varenne  look  at  each  other  in  silence.] 

Vadier.  The  rotten  colossus  at  last  laid  low !  The 
Republic  can  now  draw  a  free  breath. 


286  DANTON 

Billaud-Vaeenne  [looking  at  Saint-Just — fierce- 
ly] .  The  Republic  will  never  be  free  until  her  dictators 
have  disappeared. 

Saint-Just  [looking  straight  at  Vadiee.  and  Bil- 
laud-Varenne]  .  The  Republic  will  never  be  pure 
until  the  vultures  are  no  more. 

Vadier  [banteringly].  The  Republic  will  never  be 
free  or  pure  until  the  Republic  is  no  more ! 

Saint-Just.  Ideas  do  not  need  men.  Peoples  pass 
away  in  order  that  God  may  live. 


SHD 


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